Trouble
by Mayet
Summary: Just how much trouble could Steve get into during one reserve drill? AU from the end of I Helu Pu.
1. Prologue

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill? AU from the end of I Helu Pu.

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**A/N: **This was inspired by reading _SugarMuffin08's 'Undoubtedly'_; must have read that story a hundred times. I actually had this idea somewhere in my third or fourth read, but I haven't gotten around to follow up on it until now. Enjoy!

_**Prologue**_

The mood in the room was nervous and severe. He could tell his superiors were stubbornly avoiding to look at him, could almost follow the whispers behind his back from those sailors who'd come just to see the show, see him fall. Some wished him well, no doubt, others, eaten up by envy, were just as surely hoping for the worst. The Captain of the U.S.S Enterprise had taken a seat behind him, taking his side from the beginning, and the SEAL was unsure what such actions might cost him. This was not his arena, and he would not get in the middle of it, but Steve was more than a little grateful for the silent support and the clear sign that at least someone believed him, believed _in_ him.

The Captain wasn't the only one; he could feel Catherine's gaze burn into his back and, when he closed his eyes, he could practically see her finger the material of her uniform trousers nervously. She was likely rubbing the flat of her sweaty hands over the fabric trying to calm herself down. If this day yielded the wrong result, it would almost certainly mean a dishonorable discharge for both of them, potentially more severe punishment, and he resisted the urge to turn around and give her promises they both knew he might not be able to keep. He also fought the urge to copy her nervous habit. He could feel his hands get sweaty as he tried to find a place for them; one the desk in front of him, or in his lap, or crossed over his chest perhaps?

Commander Lou cleared her throat in an attempt to get his attention and get him to stop fidgeting because it sure as hell wasn't helping anyone. Steve risked a glance at the second table to the side where Lieutenant Commander Vukovic was sat. The man was looking at him with a slight smirk on his face; he was enjoying to see the SEAL squirm, a fact that had said sailor sit straight and still immediately. He hated Vukovic. Keeping his face as neutral as possible, he tried to imagine what the Lieutenant Commander hoped to achieve that he would risk destroying the careers of two or more good sailors. The way the man had come after him was understandably harsh considering the circumstances, but he'd had no business bullying Catherine and making her out to be some weak, simple-minded puppet in a SEAL's hands.

He fought down the sense of guilt that still threatened to overwhelm him whenever he thought about the circumstances that put them in this situation in the first place, and he had to bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from turning around to apologize to Catherine again – she'd sworn she would punch him if he did so one more time, he wouldn't put it past her, and she didn't need any more trouble coming her way. His hands clenched into fists briefly as he thought about laying a very satisfying punch on Lieutenant Commander Vucovik, but that wouldn't do either. There was no need for him to sink even deeper into this mess either.

He had been so preoccupied with what had been going on inside his head that he hadn't noticed Captain Henry Delario enter the little room. It took an elbow in the sides from Commander Lou to get him back to reality and stand up in a sign of respect with everyone else. He watched Captain Delario sit down and take notice of the seating arrangements of everyone involved. The older man did not raise an inquisitive eyebrow as he had during past sessions, merely sighed as if he were anxious to get this out of the way. With a hand he motioned for everyone to sit back down, then turned to Steve.

"Anything to add before I announce my findings, Lieutenant Commander?"

Steve shook his head. He'd already said everything he could as had a lot of other people on his behalf and on Vucovik's. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Very well, then," Captain Delario spoke up again. „Both sides have presented their case in the past sessions. As this is an Article 32 hearing, I'm not here to decide on the guilt or innocence of the accused, merely to decide whether this case should go to court-martial. Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, please rise."

**End of the prologue!**

**A/N:** So, this is my very brief prologue. Chapters will be longer and I'll try to update regularly, but I'm finishing my thesis and semester starts again next week, so I can't make any promises. I'm sorry it took me so long to get even to this point, but I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and stay tuned...

Thanks to Miahbug for beta-ing.


	2. Chapter 1

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill?

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**Warning:** explicit content, also language – you have been warned

**A/N:** Not beta-ed. I couldn't reach Miahbug, and I figured you have waited long enough. I'll update the corrected version when I receive it.

**Chapter 1**

_(End of I Helu Pu, Catherine's house_ [1]_)_

"Hey. Happy Valentine's Day."

To say she was surprised when she opened the door in the middle of packing her bags would have been exaggerated. Catherine wasn't so much surprised at finding Steve on her front lawn – she had known he'd find a moment to say goodbye to her – but at the way he appeared before her. Her brain took stock of the uniform and the bruises, yet before she could comment, he'd handed her a heart-shaped box. She took it a little astounded, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. The self-satisfied little smirk that made all the girls melt did not get by her. God, she loved that smile herself, not that she would ever allow him to know that.

"Hi," she greeted back, then added, "what happened to you?"

"Oh, this," he quipped pointing at the cut on his forehead, "it's nothing. Don't worry about it. Just another day at the office."

"And what's all this?" She intended his get-up, but of course he'd make a joke of it.

"Chocolate, you said you were good with chocolate for Valentine's." Steve's smile grew a little wider.

"Very funny," Catherine replied smiling.

"Funny, huh?" They shared a moment of amusement, then she pointed out his injuries worriedly.

"Yeah, come in."

She finally stepped aside to let him enter. He followed her to the table in her lounge. Her sea bag was sitting on top of it, open as she was not quite done packing. She placed the box of chocolates inside just as he let his own bag fall onto one of the chairs near the table. He felt her eyes wander over his body, from his feet to his face, before they shared a long glance. The smile never left his face, it only grew a little more mischievous when he noticed a new light appear in her eyes. Catherine knew him so well, knew them together so well, she didn't have to guess where this was heading. They still had a few hours to kill before the flight for the gulf left at 22:00 h.

"So, what's with the uniform and the bag?," she asked as she turned toward him again.

Steve dropped his cap onto his bag, and went over to her to take her into his arms. She stepped closer laying her hands on his chest and looking up at him with a smile.

"Well, I felt bad that our weekend got blown up by a case-"

"Again," she reminded him.

"-again, and my reserve drill was coming up anyway, so I handed in a request to do it on the Enterprise...," he added quietly as if she needed him to clarify.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he coughed, "with you."

"You know," Catherine replied lifting her arms and twining them around his neck pulling herself closer. He could feel her soft breath ghost over his skin now. She was so close, he could already taste the kiss that was coming. His mouth quirked as he ached to close the distance. "That is _so_ _much_ better than chocolate."

He smirked.

"Yeah, I thought you might like that." He didn't kiss her, not yet. He wanted to savor the anticipation until the last possible moment, even when every cell in his body seemed to be set aflame by her proximity. He knew whatever was coming would be intense. The air around them was already thick with tension. Heady passion scented it, and Steve knew the darkness in her eyes was reflected in his own. Need, desire, anticipation and the poignancy of their feelings were sweetening their encounter, turning the wait into a sweet torture for them both. It wouldn't be long now before one of them gave in, only a few more teasing lines to create some semblance of normalcy.

Catherine hummed, and the vibration that sent through his body due to their closeness almost made him plunge them both headlong into the rewards of carnal sin. "Now, you do know that you'll also be doing your reserve drill with about... hmm... 3000 other sailors, right? So, we're not going to get a whole lot of time together."

He pulled her closer again, crushing her too him in a way that must have hurt. His brave Lieutenant didn't wince, though, nor protest, instead she pressed herself ever closer waiting for his answer. Their mouths only a hair's breadth apart, he murmured directly across her lips.

"Yeah, but... it's a really long flight." Then he kissed her without further ado, and lost himself completely in his desire for this woman in his arms. He picked her up cupping her bum with his hands, and relishing the press of her center against him as she hooked her legs around his waist, then hastily carried her up the stairs to her bedroom.

Something was different today. Maybe it was his recent brush with death, but he felt everything more intensely today, and he wanted to feel her, all of her. The silkiness of her sweet-scented hair, her nails scratching his skin, her teeth on his flesh until she drew blood. He wanted to be so close to her, so connected that he felt as if he'd crawled under her skin. That's how he wanted to love her that afternoon, he thought distractedly. Swiftly yet neatly, conscious of their later necessity for them, he removed her clothes to get to her gorgeous body. Catherine certainly matched his eagerness.

His kisses were demanding. When one hungry kiss ended, he immediately dove in for the next, not giving her time to even catch her breath. One of his hands wound into her hair to keep her head in place while the other fondled her breast, tweaking and twisting the nipple between his fingers. Her hands went to pull at his hair, but he moved them behind her back and held them there with a vice-like grip. He would allow for no distractions now. His mouth descended the curve of her throat leaving a trail of hot wet kisses and teasing nips, and he reveled in the sounds falling freely from her lips at his sweet torture. His finger glided lower to test her readiness. He found her so wet for him already that a low growl escaped his own lips. He didn't waste anymore time to drop her unceremoniously on the bed, cover her body with his own and join them. As Catherine cried out in rapture, Steve silenced his hiss of pleasure with a quick bite into her shoulder. Dimly he thought that he tasted a drop of blood but his mind was too foggy with pleasure to take proper notice. He placed her hands, still firmly held in his grip, above her head, and felt her arch against him, rubbing herself against his body in answer. Steve smirked at the motion. Even when he had the upper hand, she wouldn't let him have total control of her or of their coupling. He'd truly met his match with her. He let her go when he felt the first scratch of her fingers against the vulnerable skin of his wrists. Once freed, her hands made their way to the back of his hand and down to where his shoulders met his neck. She knew how sensitive he was to touch in that area, and he shivered violently against her. Let her play with him as she pleased.

Flattened against the length of his woman's body, he rocked them steadily yet forcefully. At each thrust he felt Catherine's nails burrowing deeper into his shoulders, then she raked them down his back no doubt leaving deep red lines on his skin. Between that and the sharp pain of her teeth at the juncture of his throat and clavicle, the sting in his pain receptors contrasted nicely with the pleasure that thrummed through his heated blood. Her legs had closed tightly around his hips, her ankles locking behind him. Each rocking motion had her tighten her hold to the point he struggled to breathe, but all was eclipsed by and interwoven with the experience of her unbridled passion. She pushed him on his back and away to separate their bodies enough for her hands to have more room to move; she used her fingers like claws to mark her territory with as she moved against him. She leaned down to him to nudge his face with her nose, and he playfully tried to bite her. When she shifted her head out of reach slowly, he let his teeth scrape along her throat. With a high-pitched moan Catherine sat back, flattened her hands against his chest and met his every upward stroke with a thrust of her own. Their mating was harsh, and the grimaces of pleasure and pain on their faces were hardly attractive under other circumstances. In his current state of mind, though, he drank in the sight of her, luscious skin glowing faintly in the afternoon light, eyes dark with desire, uncontrolled expressions on her face, the tiny marks where he'd nipped at her skin, and it only turned him on more. She was the hottest, most sensual, desirable creature he'd ever laid eyes on, and he wanted her. He wanted her and needed her like his next breath. He wanted her closer. So he tumbled them over again and took back control. Catherine gave a surprised yelp, then a loud moan when he pressed even closer to her. It wasn't enough; he couldn't get close enough.

He nipped a trail along the underside of each breast, then his mouth latched onto the soft mound, sucking and biting at it until his woman was near delirious with the pleasure-pain he was providing. He moved his lips hungrily up her chest to her neck. A hand came up to twist in her hair; he loved the feeling of her silky strands slipping through his fingers, and so he brushed through them a couple of times when suddenly his eyes fell onto a speck of blue. Without conscious thought his tongue came out to lick at her skin there. For a moment he entertained the idea of turning her around just so he could sink his teeth into that blue star tattoo that decorated the back of her neck. When he had asked her about it once, she had only smiled a Mona Lisa smile and said that a girl needed to have her secrets. Somehow, now, leaving his mark there seemed important, but he didn't want to part from her even for the brief moment it would take to change positions.

"Come for me, Cath," he ordered hoarsely. He strained his neck a little and sank his teeth into the spot he could reach, noting with satisfaction when she bit him in return. He felt her fingers dig into the cheeks of his ass, and the sharp pain had him thrust faster, harder. His hand reached down between their bodies to rub over her sensitive bud furiously. He pinched it in time with his thrusts, and her teeth only sank deeper into his flesh. Their quietened moans rang loud in his ears as their passion reached its pinnacle.

They lay still entwined and boneless for a few long moments. He raised his head to look at her face, and was met with her hooded gaze. Steve searched it intently for any sign of discomfort or displeasure. It had been mere moments ago, but he could scarcely believe what had just transpired. He had never been so... forceful with her before. She had peaked, but he'd hardly given her any choice in the matter as he's manhandled her lithe body. The idea that she might not have been on the same page with him, horrified him. When he rolled off her, Catherine rolled with him until her cheek rested against his chest. Only their panting filled the silence in her bedroom before his hand stroked over her skin. She tiredly batted his hand away, but he just resumed his caress until his fingers found the apex of her thighs.

"You're insatiable," Catherine laughed. "What are you doing?"

"Taking care of you," he whispered hoarsely.

"You already have." She smiled at him sincerely. "I don't think I've ever come so hard in my life."

"Yeah, but..." The confused look on her face struck a cord with him. Couldn't she see? "Just let me... do this for you."

He continued to stroke her gently, and her reaction did not get by him. Catherine's eyes fluttered closed, and the little whimper she gave was equal parts pleasure and pain, despite the lightness of his touch. It tore at him. He had never wanted to hurt her; he just hadn't been able to help himself. He'd needed to feel her so damn much, he'd ached to be ever closer. His gaze wandered over the bruises already marring her beautiful skin. More would be visible in a little while, no doubt. He'd obviously overdone it quite a bit. He wanted to make up for it, in whatever little ways he could. He wanted to give her only pleasure. She deserved it after his harsh treatment of her. He wanted to love her again, the way she deserved to be loved. Then maybe she would believe him when he told her... Steve cleared his mind of all unnecessary thoughts. Only his knowledge of how to make her body sing remained. With this single-minded focus he began to make his way down her body with light kisses as two of his fingers sank into her. Her hands halted his movements. He looked up at her face unprepared for the intensity of her eyes.

"Steve, there wasn't a moment that I wasn't one hundred per cent with you." He choked down on a sob. She had always been the one to understand him completely, but sometimes she seemed to read his mind. What she was saying was what he wanted, needed to hear, and he knew deep down that she would never lie to him to make him feel better, but still he could not believe that he should so easily be forgiven.

"Cath, I-"

"No, don't. Don't apologize and don't beat yourself up about this, especially where I can see it." She paused briefly to make sure he understood her. "I like slow and sweet, and I like hard and fast, and I knew the moment I opened my door to see you standing there with your scrapes and bruises that today would be a hard-and-fast day. I wouldn't trade a moment of that. I don't regret anything. Neither should you."

"You sure?", he asked. "I know I was a bit... overzealous."

"That's putting it mildly," she chuckled, then stopped when she noticed him duck his head and avert his eyes in response. He kissed her skin softly. "Look, do I want every time to be like this? No, but I enjoy rough sex as much as the next gal once in a while. And if this," she gave an experimental shove against his hand to emphasize her point, her mouth opening in a quiet moan, "is your way of apologizing for playing rough, I am _not_ _ever _going to complain."

A grin found its way back onto Steve's face as he returned to the task he had begun earlier. Shifting himself down her body, he resumed stroking her. He never stopped gazing at her face, even when her eyes fluttered shut and she started to bite her lip to keep from screaming his name once his mouth joined his fingers and began to lavish attention to her sweet spot. His other hand held onto her as tight as he dared to minimize her movements once she began to sway her hips against him to achieve more friction to please herself. Her right hand took a firm grip of his hair urging him to give her more. Simultaneously she gave up on keeping quiet, something Steve took great pride in, setting himself to the task of eliciting all the sounds from her that always made his heart thunder in his chest.

They still had a few hours until their flight out, so they eventually decided to get some sleep before getting a bite to eat and go. When Steve woke up again, it was to the sound of the shower running in the en suite bathroom. At first he was put out that she hadn't asked him to join her, then a grin spread across his face at the thought that cleaning would not be a part of any activity in that same shower if he were there with her. Perhaps it had been a smart move of her to let him sleep on. He didn't find it surprising that he hadn't woken when she got up, despite usually being a light sleeper. Catherine rocked his world every night – or day – they tumbled through the sheets together, and he slept like a stone afterwards every time. He heard the shower turn off, and headed into the bathroom. Steve stopped in the doorway to appreciate the view of Catherine standing in front of her medicine cabinet naked as the day she was born to dry her hair. His small smile quickly turned into a scowl at the shock of seeing the entire extent of the... damage he'd done. Time had allowed the bruises to take on a dark purple color, there were marks in the shape of his hands on her legs and back and he hadn't even seen the front yet, where he knew there also were a lot of bite marks. Her wrists were black and blue from his grip. From his position he could only see the partial imprint of his teeth on her shoulder from when he'd tried to reach her star tattoo, and it was deep and angry red. She looked like she'd been through more than a bit of rough sex, a lot more. She looked like... His throat choked up and he felt sick to the stomach. A rattled breath escaped his lips, and he didn't dare finish that thought, but, oh, what had he done?!

She looked like she had been ra-

"No," Catherine said decisively as if she'd read his thoughts from the expression on his face again. She turned around and strode over to him with her index finger extended toward him. Her voice was as firm as he felt weak. "No, don't even think it. Don't you dare."

She literally grabbed his shoulders and shook him, and he thought that couldn't be all. Where was the punch he deserved? The knee to his groin?

"Stop thinking that, Steve. This was entirely consensual."

"Cath, even you have to admit I was more... forceful than... I didn't... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I should have stopped. Why didn't you stop me when I was hurting you?"

"Because I wanted it, and because I barely even noticed that it hurt. It wasn't like pain then, more like another form of pleasure. I enjoyed it, Steve, so stop beating yourself up about it. Do you honestly think any of that would have happened if I hadn't wanted it as much as you did?! Think of what I would have done to you if I hadn't wanted to screw you into the next millennium."

Her crass words hit him like a fist in the gut and cleared his thoughts making him listen to her. Thinking about it logically, he knew that he'd have ended up on the floor next to the bed with a broken hipbone and without his manhood if he'd laid a finger on her without her consent, and only then would she have stormed downstairs, called the cops and had his sorry ass arrested by his own team. Steve swallowed, because the knowledge did little to placate his self-loathing. There was more she had to say, he knew her well enough to know that she had a trump card she hadn't played yet. He focused on her, and let her manhandle him towards the mirror above her sink, He figured he owed her that; to be as complacent to her forceful manipulation of his body as she had been to his. He also suspected that a part of him wanted her to convince him. She grasped his chin and turned his face toward the mirror.

"Take a good look at yourself, Steve, and tell me I didn't give as good as I got."

That was the first time he saw the marks she'd left on his body. Some wounds that apparently had been recently bleeding had scabbed over. There were a lot of those. He turned to the side, only to see even more. Long streaks down his back covered with scab. Bite marks across his throat and shoulders, even one on his left pectoral, and the indentations left by her vice-like grip completed the picture. Compared to his escapade with Catherine, he looked like he'd gotten out of his car accident that day unscathed.

"Wow," he whispered.

"Will you stop beating yourself up now or do you actually want me to kick your ass?!", Catherine asked furiously looking quite the part of the lioness that had marred his skin.

Steve still felt somewhat guilty at manhandling her so. He'd been taught to never mistreat a woman, which was exactly what he had done, no matter how much Cath had enjoyed it, but he couldn't help his answering grin.

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_(Pearl-Hickam, 22:00h)_

They made their way on board the military transport the Air Force furnished to get all sailors back to their respective posts. The USS Enterprise was still stationed in the Gulf so everyone would be flown to the nearest air base and then carted over in smaller planes fit to land on deck. It wasn't comfortable by any means and their was no privacy, but Steve and Catherine managed to snatch two spots beside one another. This environment was not made for relaxation, and they'd have to be careful how they interacted. They were close, though, their bodies touching down the length of one side and it was enough. Steve's overwhelming need for physical contact had subsided somewhat, though he still reveled in the feel of Catherine pressed to him by the burly man sitting on her other side. When she kept fidgeting with the collar of her shirt and BDUs, a little twinge of guilt settled in his stomach. She was trying to hide the marks he'd left as best as she could while sticking to Navy dress code; even with the amount of make up she'd applied earlier, it wasn't easy.

He saw her sent an especially nasty glare at one particularly impudent Petty Officer across from them who'd noticed her efforts and was leering at her. Steve felt like putting the man in his place himself, but he couldn't show any overt reaction lest he wanted to get both Catherine and himself into trouble. He couldn't quite suppress the smirk of satisfaction when Cath's death glare had its intended effect, making the insolent youth cower and avert his gaze. What they did on shore leave was one thing – nobody paid attention, and anyone who noticed would turn away pretending not to have seen – but they couldn't be that open while in uniform and on duty. It really was going to be a long flight, he concluded a little more surly than his earlier quip would have made them believe. He sighed and tried to get comfortable.

"Don't lean back too far; it could come back to bite you, Commander," a voice said making him sit up straight again. Looking up he found Lieutenant Storm gazing down at him calmly, tapping a finger subtly against the lower part of his neck. Steve adjusted his uniform to cover his own battle wounds with a grin. Michael then turned to Catherine. "And you need to stop fidgeting, Kitten, you're just attracting attention. We wouldn't want anyone to look too closely, right?"

His voice was just loud enough for them to hear, but Cath stopped moving immediately. Michael took the seat right beside Steve, who saw Carlos and Jack make the burly man shift down a few seats in the row to sit down next to his lover. Catherine smiled gratefully at them. They may not have been much smaller, but she'd take the embarrassment of falling asleep and drooling on one of their shoulders over a stranger's any day.

"Rough day?", Jack asked quietly from his seat. "Your boyfriend keep you up much?"

Steve just glared at him.

"Intense, certainly," was all Catherine gave as a response, but the smile on her face relieved him quite a bit. Steve guessed it would still take a while for him to get used to the idea that she was okay... with everything. "One of the best days of my life though."

That comment very nearly made his chest swell a little, but Mick knew how to prevent that by poking him in the ribs. Feeling playful, Steve poked him back, and that's what led to the competition. It was an all-out poking war for the next couple of minutes, taunting and teasing, and a loud sigh that sounded suspiciously like "Boys..." included. Eventually everyone had taken their place, and they were airborne. The first couple of hours were spent talking about their leave. Mick had visited his wife and kids to take them on a short trip to the main island. Jack and Carlos, both single and happy with it, had gone sky-diving and jungle trekking during the day and immersed themselves in the urban nightlife come dusk. Neither of them remembered how many women they'd gotten to know, if everybody got their drift, and in one instance Jack didn't even quite remember what the girl looked like, only that he thought she was hot as hell.

"You're man whores, the both of you," Catherine stated in complete seriousness, then chuckled. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, mum," Carlos quipped back.

"Better than being completely whipped like those two dickless morons," Jack commented with a flick of his finger towards the other two members of his SEAL team.

Catherine bit back a comment about Steve's... endowment that she would not have held back in private, and instead enjoyed the man's flustered reaction. His mouth opened and closed several times like a fish's, before he looked at Mick, then at her as if asking for help. Catherine just shrugged her shoulders in fake disinterest. Mick put a hand on his friend's arm and shook his head.

"At least I know that I've performed the next morning without wondering if the booze turned me temporarily impotent."

Catherine threw back her head and laughed, even Steve chuckled, making a couple of heads turn in their direction. Mick's comment had been whispered, but her and Steve's reaction had been rather too merry. Her other two boys pouted while she nearly doubled over laughing. She finally caught herself when some people started pointing at them and whispering. Catherine adjusted her uniform self-consciously. Her boys noticed and a quick round of warning glares got everybody to mind their own business again. Sobering up completely, Catherine told the men that on that merry notion she wished them goodnight. Leaning her head back, she was a goner in under a minute. The boys continued their arguing over the benefits and losses of being attached and single a bit more quietly at first, but eventually lost interest. For a long while there was silence between the friends, partially so as not to disturb their sleeping companion, but mostly because they enjoyed what little quiet they could get on a military transport. The engine was always humming, or growling more likely, but it was so constant they barely noticed it after a while. Everyone else was making themselves comfortable to catch some precious few hours of sleep while they were in flight, and the men decided to follow their example. The last to drift off were Mick and Steve.

"You okay, partner?", Mick asked carefully. He'd wanted to talk to Steve for hours, but there had been to many prying ears.

"Yeah, I... she just awes me," Steve replied without looking at Catherine, though the desire to was almost overwhelming since her head had lolled to the side resting against his shoulder a couple of minutes ago. For everyone who may still catch a glimpse, it had to look like he didn't even notice, like he wasn't interested and talking about someone else. Their relationship was perhaps one of the worst kept secrets, but it was very much a don't ask, don't tell kinda thing, and Steve would like to keep it that way in order to stay out of trouble. "I didn't think she'd be okay with... all of that. There is a lot of... damage..."

"Yeah, your girlfriend is pretty damn awesome," Mick answered jovially. His look was stern, though. "You want some advice?"

"From the guy who's been married since BUDs, hell yes." Steve didn't normally admit that he needed help, but what had transpired earlier had unsettled him.

"Just follow her lead," the other SEAL told him seriously. "If she doesn't worry, neither should you or you might just create a problem where there is none."

"Mick, I... was pretty harsh."

"Has she kicked your ass? Called the cops? Told Jack, Carlos and me to avenge her?"

"No."

"Then stop worrying. Or she'll kick your ass for not taking her at her word. If she says she's okay with it, she's okay with it. Believe her, or she'll turn that on you asking if you think she's helpless or witless or just a liar, and any of those questions are as bad as asking if she's gained weight."

They both chuckled at that one. When he was right...

"If you can't put your mind to rest, bury the issue," Mick went on, then added more quietly, "and observe her actions to see if something changes in how she is and reacts around you. If nothing does, maybe that will get your stupid guilt to shut it."

Steve bit his lip, but nodded. It was worth a try.

"You know," Steve piped up to change the subject, "I'm glad you guys will be on the Enterprise as well. Otherwise my reserve drills could get even more testing."

"At least you won't be the only SEAL sitting at Kitten's table, huh?!", Mick joked back quietly, giving him a nudge. "Have someone around to keep you straight."

"Hey, what are you implying?!," the Lieutenant Commander questioned affronted. "I'll let you know that I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself in a work environment."

"Yeah, I think you behaving yourself in a work environment is what started off the first round of rumors." Mick grinned maliciously.

Catherine cooed a little on Steve shoulder, snuggling closer before he could reply. God, he wanted to wrap his arm around her to pull her closer. He resisted the urge to do anything, barely. If he thought this would be a long flight, he sure as hell was in for an even longer reserve drill. Though he wouldn't really get that much time with her, because of their diverse schedule. If he was lucky, he'd get a couple of meals, maybe some training in one of the recreational rooms at the same time. Perhaps he could get her to spar with him – or with some of the newbie SEALs that were bound to be there; that would be hilarious. It wouldn't always be like this. He was in the reserves, and if they were lucky, she wouldn't always gallivant around the world either. Maybe she could get a transfer to Pearl if they managed to get their act together properly. It would only be natural for her to stay with him, great house, private beach. They could put up a Hollywood chair and watch the sunset. Steve caught himself smiling at the thought as he leaned back to catch some shut eye himself, and decided that whatever he could have, would be enough. For now.

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_(Udeid [2])_

Arriving at the base at Udeid, they were battered. They'd been in the air for most of the day, and were looking forward to getting a few hours of sleep before being shipped out to the USS Enterprise. Luckily it was late at night when they arrived in Udeid. Further transport was arranged for the early morning. The base seemed almost deserted. The night shift was already working and everybody else had gone to bed by now, so they didn't encounter many zoomies or Qatari air force officers while Steve accompanied her to her quarters. They stopped at her door, and Catherine turned to him. This was the end of the line for tonight. They looked at each other, and more words passed between them in the silence than they could have said in hours of conversation. A quick glance to make sure that no one was there to witness it, then Steve raised his hand to gently pry the barrette from her hair. His hand lingered briefly, and his fingers brushed the skin of her cheek and neck as they retreated. This was as much intimacy as they could allow themselves, more than perhaps he should have dared to seek, but he reveled in bestowing a soft touch on her after the recent coarseness.

"Goodnight, Lieutenant," he whispered softly.

"Well goodnight, Commander," she teased back, her eyes still closed to savor the last imprints of his touch.

Reluctantly Steve walked down the hall. Catherine waited until he had turned the corner after one last look at her, then went inside and closed the door behind her swiftly. Without taking one glance around the room – if you'd see one, you'd seen them all – Catherine set about getting ready for bed. She rapidly undid the buttons on her uniform shirt shrugging out of it, then pulled her shirt up over her head. She was about to undo her trousers when a small gasp in the corner of the room drew her attention. Turning toward the noise, the Lieutenant noticed her peer with whom it appeared she would be sharing the room for the night. It was a petite woman in her twenties with a short crop of chestnut brown hair. Her expression was shocked, her mouth hung open in horror and she was white as a sheet. A hand was raised slowly, disbelievingly to her face. Catherine raised an eyebrow skeptically, daring the other woman to say something or, preferably, hold her goddamn peace. She'd had enough of that discussion when she'd argued with Steve; everybody else ought to keep their mouths shut and mind their own business.

The woman said nothing, and climbed into bed. Catherine went back to undressing herself with the sinking feeling that resuming her duty would just get worse from here on out.

**End of chapter 1!**

**A/N: **So, yeah, some Barry White, but will it cause problems for our favorite couple? You bet it will. **  
**

**(1)** I relocated the scene to Catherine's house, 'cause I found it a little weird that she'd stay in a hotel when it would later be shown that she owns a house on Oahu.

**(2)** I do not own that base, and I picked it more or less randomly for its location at the Persian Gulf.


	3. Chapter 2

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill?

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**Warning****s: -**

**Chapter 2 **

They had very little time to unpack once they'd boarded the aircraft carrier, so Catherine and her long-time friend Patricia Sanders hurried to their quarters. Brushing past dozens of other sailors rushing through the slim corridors, Catherine's mind shifted from the jovial lookout it had kept for the time of their transport to focusing on her work. During the flight from Udeid the boys had sat together busy joking with and teasing each other. She'd sat with Patricia and two of her other female colleagues – Laura Higgins and Sarah Adams – to catch up to the latest news. Apparently they had a new JAG officer on board, a newly minted Lieutenant Commander with the good looks, smart mouth and smarmy attitude that would cause trouble. Well, Sarah had never much liked lawyers since she'd been divorced from hers. The other three women hadn't found any particular interest in the JAG officer; they were intelligence after all, and would hardly ever run into him. If they did, and he'd get cocky, they'd just put him in his place. The rest of the flight had gone smoother. They'd talked about their upcoming work, men,whether or not they'd been left with a broken heart, and who'd had the most satisfying shore leave – not necessarily in that order...

As soon as Catherine had waved goodbye to her men, she had been dragged off by Jenny so that they'd make it in time. Their supervising officer didn't have any patience for lateness or slacking off during working hours. Therefore the two women quickly set to work to unpack all the necessary once they'd reached their cabin, swiftly yet neatly moving clothes and objects from their duffel bags to their lockers. They didn't exchange any words as they were too concentrated on the task. There'd be time for more chatter later. It was hot in the cabin, the sun burning down on the ship and its metal skeleton passing it on to its insides. They were close to the outer wall, Catherine didn't want to know what it must be like in the belly of the ship. Her mind was briefly filled with concern for her boys as she opened two buttons on her BDUs in order to breathe a little easier. It would be only minutes until she'd have to close them up again, but she relished in the feeling while she could.

"Wow, had a rough night?", Patricia's teasing voice broke the silence between them after she whistled appreciatively. Catherine raised her gaze to see what she was looking at, but she already knew. Evidence of her and Steve's extracurricular activity must have shown through her opened uniform. She turned toward her friend with a broad and wicked grin. "No wonder lover boy had a shit-eating grin on his face during the entire flight, and he kept casting furtive glances at you. He's probably hoping for an encore performance soon – maybe in a supply closet."

"Shut up!", Catherine snapped playfully, but she was glad Patricia had a better reaction than the young woman last night. She released a sigh she hadn't known she was holding. A part of her had feared to earn revulsion from her friends. Then again, she hadn't seen everything yet, but it was one step of the way. "We're not like that, not on the Enterprise. We wouldn't ever risk our carriers like that. We could be court-martialed."

"You could be court-martialed anyway," Patricia replied humorously. "Your liaison with McGarrett is probably the worst kept secret in the whole Navy. Everybody knows, or why do you think sailors stay away. You've got that pretty face and the trained body to go with it, and you think they leave you alone 'cause you're their colleague?! They scared shitless of McGarrett."

"And they'd know I'd kick their asses," Catherine added with a scoff. "Uhm, listen... uh, there is... more." She was tapping her finger lightly against the bruise in a not so subtle way until Trish's eyes took on a gleam.

"How much more?"

"A lot." She spared a glance at her watch, and decided she might as well change into a new pair of BDUs that she hadn't traveled in for two days. She wasn't usually squeamish about this, but personal hygiene was important, and this way she could kill two birds with a stone. So she stripped out of her uniform, and let Patricia take in her shocked breath. Catherine ducked her head fighting hot tears. She'd hoped her friends would understand better, she thought, as Trish kept staring at her taking in her appearance, and the seconds ticked by slow as an eternity.

"Need a Tylenol or something?", she finally quipped, and Catherine did burst into tears after all as relief flooded her. They laughed together helplessly, and hugged briefly. Catherine could bloody kiss Trish for... just being herself.

The dark-haired woman shook her head, and they went back to business. Once Catherine was dressed again and everything was packed away neatly into their lockers, they headed swiftly in the direction of their work stations. They'd meet Laura and Sarah there, and get straight to work. Catherine's mind shifted again from Steve and her worry about how Patricia may react when she saw the complete extend of the markings to be singularly focused on her task. She'd be going over satellite imagery and data streams for the rest of the day. It wasn't the most exciting job in the world, but she was good at it. As soon as she'd been assigned to her first work station in Coronado, she'd found that she had a knack for intelligence work and that she loved it.

When she was at work, nothing else existed in the world, only numbers and images, information and what she could do with it. She didn't think of Steve, of Oahu or what life could be like once she'd reach retirement age. She barely took notice of her surroundings or the people that came with it. When somebody called her, they usually had to say her name a couple of times. The only voice that got to her with a single word was her supervising officer. Maybe it was her Navy survival instinct, but the voice of her superior caught her attention even when she was immersed in a ton of data and her brain completely occupied with deciding on their value. So despite the fact that she was headlong in an attempt to trace the steps of all collaboration of the Haqqani and the Taliban network along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, the voice of Commander Richard Fenn's trickled through her brain to reach her conscious thought. She blinked once, twice, losing her concentration and the trail she been following. Sighing, Catherine gave into the distraction; she knew she'd find her way back to where she'd been in deciphering the Intel again once she could regain focus. Whatever the reason for her distraction, a quick indulgence was the wiser path than to try and fight it only to lose.

"No, really," she heard Fenn say distantly. Looking up she saw that he was on the phone with somebody. His gaze settled on her for a brief moment with something between wonder and shock, then flitted away to look at the wall beside the phone. "No, everything seems fine, though I haven't had a proper look, obviously, sir."

He waited for a reply from the other end with another glance at her. Catherine frowned. Since when was Commander Fenn so interested in her?

"Yes, sir," he said, and hung up. Then he turned to her, looking at her for a long while this time before ordering her back to work.

Catherine quietly resumed her duties, and quickly found the end of her previously conducted investigation again. As she refocused all her efforts into locating any of the terrorist cells along the border as well as their diverse weapons transports, the half of the strange conversation she'd heard kept niggling at the back of her mind. The hairs on her neck had stood up when she thought to see something akin to pity in his last gaze, mixed with anger and grim determination. She wasn't sure what to make of all of that, so she continued with her duties and decided to contemplate all the rest at a later date.

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They were dropped into the water like buoys. There was a large splash when his body made contact with the ocean. He felt himself going under with all his clothes and gear, then a million tiny freezing cold needles pricking at him was all he felt. This went on even after he broke the surface again. Steve was pretty much on autopilot. He wasn't quite sure how his arms and legs managed to move through the cold and the pain, and it wasn't a conscious effort, but they did and they kept his head above the water. He looked around. The swell wasn't as bad as he'd expected it to be, even hough they'd dropped them at some distance from the Enterprise, and he could see his team mates. They had been dispersed rather thoroughly across the surface, and now they'd have to find there way back together and reach the lifeboat – if they could bloody well find it. So far Steve's day had been nothing unexpected. From the deck he'd and his men had been ushered directly to a training room. Adapting to the lack of space on an aircraft carrier their warm-up consisted of a two-hour period of push ups, sit up, running on the spot and squats. Then they'd been driven out onto the ocean in the very lifeboat they were supposed to reach again now, and thrown overboard. They'd been left to stew for an eternity before the lifeboat had turned back around, and they had to manage to get inside while it flitted past them.

Once that had happened, they'd been escorted to a chopper on deck of the Enterprise, flown out again and made to jump. Yep, perfect day for him. Steve made his first few strokes toward the closest point he could make out that was at a reasonable distance from the others as well. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of his fellow SEALs do the same. His gut instinct told him it was Mick. Steve didn't know how, but no matter how much camouflage paint, grease, dust, sand or whatever was all over his friend, he always recognized Mick as if they were mentally linked twins. The cold had subsided by the time Steve made his fifth stroke, mostly due to the fact that the ocean seemed intent on fighting him at every move. Steve's breathing had quickened, and now he was panting. His heart was hammering, his muscles straining from the exercise, and he was effectively getting nowhere.

At this rate, it would take ages to get to the meeting point and it would be utterly exhausting. Once Steve and the other would have made it passed all the problems, they'd probably be ordered back into the chopper, and dropped in the ocean again. A change of direction was in order. A look around assured him that the others had noticed it too. They would try to swim as much with the current as possible, instead of against it. Determining a new gathering point, everyone headed out from their position. They kept checking on each other to find the most accurate route. The current wasn't pulling at him anymore, wasn't about to wash him away, but Steve was still heaving with every stroke. Finally, he reached the gathering point, and had to worry only about keeping himself afloat for a moment. When the last man made it to them, they were a group of eight shivering SEALs. Everyone looked around for a boat, and, as expected, it was in the opposite direction of the swell.

"Looks like they're having fun," Steve commented dryly.

"Wanna go hide under the covers, reserve?!", one of the other men taunted. "Don't tell me civilian life has made you soft, you delicate flower."

"Not as soft as you've always been, Cowden," Jack barked back, earning him a scowl from the man. "I bet you that Smooth Dog will beat your sorry ass to that boat."

Steve wanted to groan. Jack had the unfortunate inclination to make bets and start games in his name. He saw Mick's pitying gaze on him, and glared at the man. Steve wouldn't have made the challenge himself, but he wasn't about to butt out of it either. Mick's pity turned into a knowing grin: damn it, the guy knew him way to well. Steve scoffed, and Mick turned back to the others to focus their attention on the problem at hand.

"If you ladies are quite done, maybe we can make our way to the lifeboat now?", he suggested sarcastically. "I don't fancy spending all day here."

"Fine. We'll see what your semi-retired Commander is worth," Cowden baited him, and had Steve not been really keen to get out of the water, he might have taken a swing at him for that comment. He was not semi-retired, and he took personal issue with anyone implying that. Danny had made the comment once, and learned the error of his ways immediately, though Steve had refrained from actually hitting him due to previous experience of the detective's likely reaction to being manhandled. He had however send him a death glare that had made Danny stop dead in his tracks and shut up for the whole explanation and five minutes to boot. Danny had never again used the word retirement and his name in the same conversation.

Seeing as he really did want to get warm again, Steve just rolled his eyes and made his way towards the lifeboat. He paid no particular attention to Cowden, though he made an effort to stay close to his comrades as they all did. They were a team, and their strength came from being united. They would reach the boat as a group or not at all. Every stroke was a mammoth task that would have them gasping for air, therefore they controlled their breathing carefully in order to preserve energy. Steve's arms and legs were beginning to hurt, the usual burn he got through training setting in. Some people said it got easier once you worked through the burn by continuing with the activity until it lessened. All Steve could say was that it got bearable over time, but never easy. His reserve drill wasn't meant to be easy, it was supposed to keep him in shape and ready for combat if his country needed him.

By the time they got into earshot of their drill sergeant, the insults were already flying left and right and Steve wondered briefly what Catherine would think and do if she heard half of the name-calling that involved mentions of the female disposition. He squashed that pleasant but distracting thought. Other than that his ears didn't even take notice of the abuse. He was too tired. Steve couldn't take how long they had taken to get across what had maybe been slightly under a mile, but he was beyond exhausted. It felt like hours. He was so cold, his limbs felt hot, unnaturally warm. He felt his eyes droop every few seconds like his body wanted to fall asleep, only to be jerked awake by his survival instinct kicking in and the salty water splashing into his face. He'd drunk quite a bit of that, and thinking about it made him feel like his stomach was overstretched, though he knew logically that he hadn't swallowed nearly enough water for that. He felt like giving in and allowing himself to sink; he knew they'd fish him out of the water. What kept him going was that he was used to this feeling from SEAL training and missions, and he'd been taught to tell that feeling to shove it. So instead he grasped hold to pull himself into the lifeboat. Dragging himself into the boat was the hardest part if only because it was the final action required of him. Every muscle in his body began to throb as he heaved himself up into the lifeboat. The burning got so bad, it spread though his whole form and seemed to seep into his brain. He couldn't think, blinded as he was by the exertion. When he sank onto the plastic ground, he coughed a couple of times. Regulating your breathing could only do so much; he needed air and badly. Shifting to one side and into a sitting position, he waited for the rest of his team.

Contrary to Steve's expectation they were not dumped into the water again, but made to march their shivering, pitiful masses straight to the infirmary under the ever-present string of insults from their training officer. Apparently, they had taken so long that last time that the Enterprise's doctor wanted a piece of them. Said Doctor barked at them to strip down to nothing, wrap themselves in warm blankets and get into the trauma beds. Wet clothes hit the floor as fast as the SEALs could manage to get out of them in spite of their cold-induced movement disorder. Steve could barely close his fingers around anything, and trying to pull his shirt over his head or open his trousers seemed an impossible task. They were all a bit embarrassed when the nurses decided to start helping them. They were goddamn SEALs, and they couldn't get out of their own clothes. As Steve attempted to get a nurse to lay off him, an appreciative whistle caught his attention. Several more catcalls followed.

"Wow, mangled by the weaker sex, Commander!", one man called.

"Damn, that girl can scratch," Jack commented upon seeing the full extent of his friend's injuries for the first time. Steve flushed a little thinking of what the scabbed over streaks on his back must look like. He fought the urge to grab a blanket and hide behind it like a shield. He would take this like a man.

"Tu novia es una gatita selvaje." He smirked at Carlos. A feral kitten, indeed, Steve thought as his memories took him back to how she'd overthrown him that day.

"She's not my girlfriend," he said anyway, and the three other men in his team rolled their eyes.

"Listen to him," another SEAL, Hector Warren, commented, pointing his thumb in Steve's direction. His eyes were filled with quiet admiration, even as he picked the older SEAL apart. "Dude, you're henpecked. Be man enough to admit it. Your woman must be a beautiful and dangerous creature. I'd like to shake her hand, among other things."

"She's more woman than you could handle, Warren," Steve rebuked him gruffly. The men laughed easily together. Steve didn't share Catherine, and he didn't generally appreciate such comments about her, but Warren hadn't meant anything by it. He'd never go after a brother's girl. It was just a joke amongst men – or boys, as Cath would call them if she could see them right now.

"I see why they call you Smooth Dog," Cowden told him, walking over and around Steve to get a good look. Steve's face closed off when he realized what Cowden was talking about. Mick, Jack and Carlos came closer as the rest of their comrades stilled their laughter and movement. Everyone seemed to feel the tension that was building between the two men. Carlos signaled the nurses to step back behind the SEALs in order to get them out of the way of the fight that was coming, especially considering how Cowden went on. "I want that broad's number."

That was the kind of comment Steve couldn't tolerate; it made his blood boil. Mick, ever the peacekeeper, stepped in before fists could fly.

"Steve, leave it," was the first thing he said, then he turned to Cowden. "And you, not another word. The Commander's girlfriend is not anyone's broad, and you'd do well never to repeat that to me again, or I'll tell her you said that."

"And trust me, compared to what she'll do to you, a brawl with McGarrett will look like a Sunday brunch," Carlos interjected.

Tension lay thick in the air as the two men stared at each other. Nobody moved until the smirk on Cowden's face slowly slipped off as he realized how serious Carlos was about what he said. Mick had positioned himself between Steve and Cowden, one hand on his friend's arm to keep him from doing something stupid in defense of his girlfriend's honor. Mick could feel him shaking in his restraint. Carlos stood to one side, and they could see Jack behind Cowden. You never messed with a SEAL or their loved ones if you didn't want the whole team coming down hard on you, and Steve's Cath was someone special to all four of them.

"If anyone is thinking of starting a fight in my trauma room, I'll be performing prostate exams for the rest of the day," Doctor Jason Taylor threatened. That got a reaction from all of them.

"Okay, relax," Cowden backpedaled. "Must be some woman."

"My woman," Steve said in a low voice. He might as well have bared his teeth at the other man.

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When she was ordered to see the Doctor about a physical exam in the infirmary after her working hours, Catherine had to consciously suppress a frown. It was a little early into her tour to check for an unwanted pregnancy, so she came to the conclusion that a Lieutenant in Udeid needed a lecture in staying out of business that did not concern her. She must have reported the sight Catherine had made the previous night. She mentally brushed her anger away as she came to a halt before the infirmary. She bit her lip. Once she was in there, she'd have a bit of explaining to do. The Doctor would want an explanation for her physical state; she'd have to make him believe her, or the Navy would not stop asking invasive questions and she'd be send to a psychiatrist.

When she entered, Doctor Taylor was nowhere to be found. She let her glance wander about the room. The infirmary seemed empty. Instead of leaving like she wanted to, Catherine stepped further into the room, and noticed that the door to the trauma room was slightly ajar and the curtains of the large glass wall separating it from the rest of the infirmary were closed. She could hear voices coming from inside the trauma room, and ventured to the entrance; finding Doctor Taylor was certainly a bonus to the sight of eight mostly naked Navy SEALs. Catherine grinned when she saw Steve amongst them, then frowned. Doctor Taylor was bound to notice the similarities of their 'battle wounds'. She wanted to curse.

"Now that we've cleared this all up, get under those covers before you catch pneumonia."

"Don't tell us shit, Doctor. The water's too warm for that," Jack replied with a laugh.

"Not if I add a bucket of ice water to your treatment, Petty Officer," the Doctor replied testily, and Jack wisely caved. "Now, into bed. I'll call you, examine you, and if you're fine, you can leave. If you show any signs of hypothermia, you're staying here. Everyone clear?"

The SEALs nodded quietly. Catherine smiled slightly, then cleared her throat.

"Woman on deck," she informed them jokingly, and watched delighted as everyone scrambled for shelter. She had to raise a hand to her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud. Her shoulders were shaking as she watched all the flustered activity. Doctor Taylor turned toward her with a smirk of his own. He informed the men that they might as well get comfortable, 'cause it would be ladies first. Then he warned them not to create any more problems, a threatening finger in the air as a not so subtle hint. Catherine cocked her head to the side when she saw the men's scared reaction, but shrugged it off when the good doctor joined her in the infirmary and closed the door.

"This way, Lieutenant Rollins," he told her and led her to the examination table in the other room. There was a small area that was curtained off so that she could undress in private. The doctor made sure they'd be left alone during the exam, and when she came back out, he took two seconds of stunned silence to process what he saw. He rubbed the back of his nose, clearly considering what a mess of paper work was coming his way. "Alright, this is obviously going to take a while. Have a seat, Lieutenant, and tell me your story."

"It's not a story, sir, it's the truth," Catherine replied a little defensively. Commander Taylor raised his hand.

"I'm not doubting you before you even opened your mouth, Lieutenant, I'm just trying to create the most comfortable atmosphere. The fact that you react so defensively already, makes me wonder if you have something to be defensive about..."

He switched on the lamp near the table and took note of the first few injuries. He retrieved his notepad from his own seat before sitting down, and began to take notes. He'd covered almost half a page with his indecipherable scribble when Catherine cleared her throat ready to talk about her injuries. The doctor acknowledged her with a hum, but didn't stop his examination Strangely, the continued working noises of the pen scraping over the paper, the light, professional touches and the knowledge that Steve was in the other room served to calm her until she was sure she could convince Doctor Taylor that this was not what it looked like.

"As you may know, I had leave recently. In fact I've only returned to the Enterprise today. I spent my leave with my...", Catherine hesitated, unsure of what to call Steve. They didn't use labels, and they rarely spoke about their feelings. The emotional connection was there, they both knew it was there, and they acknowledged it, if only silently. "Uhm, well, my... boyfriend."

Doctor Taylor looked up, and she cringed.

"It just sounds so childish."

"So, you spent your 48-hour leave with you significant other, and I take it, you had an interesting night."

"Day, actually," she replied, knowing that she had to be honest with the Commander. "Uh, we met up shortly before w- before the flight."

Doctor Taylor nodded and signaled for her to go on.

"We...," Catherine sighed. She was not some blushing virgin, and she decided to bloody well act like it. "We had a bit of rough sex. What you see is the aftermath. It was consensual. I wasn't raped, I wasn't forced, and I'm fine. I gave as good as I got."

"Yes," Doctor Taylor murmured, then realized that he was venturing onto thin ice, he added, "I guess you would."

Catherine cleared her throat.

"These marks are quite extensive, though."

"So are his." Catherine wrung her fingers. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes," the Doctor said seriously. "As you can guess, the Captain has ordered this examination. I have to write a medical report."

"Will someone else see it?", Catherine inquired.

"If there was a reason to believe that you have been a victim of sexual assault, I'd have to relate this assertion to the Captain in oder to begin the judicial process... Since you weren't assaulted, that's all the Captain needs to know."

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"I've only conducted a superficial exam, but I can see no reason why I should not take Lieutenant Rollins at her word, Captain," Doctor Taylor reported a few hours later once he was done examining the SEALs. Only two of them had to stay in the trauma room, they were in good enough hands with his nurses and it was quiet enough work-wise that he had felt confident to give his report directly to the Captain. They'd moved from the bridge to a conference room in order not to be overheard. "I see no need to take any further steps."

"Then neither do I," Captain Swanson replied with a relieved sigh. He didn't need a case of sexual assault to upset the relative tranquility of the Enterprise's work processes. Nonetheless, he turned to his new JAG officer who'd first suggested testing upon hearing the eye witness report from Rollins' room mate in Udeid, to see if the man held any reservations. The young Lieutenant Commander was tall and had a bout of black hair that was almost too long and unruly to be regulation. He usually wore a mischievous smile, and the Captain had at first protested gravely to having him assigned to the Enterprise. Gregory Vukovic had a reputation for his unconventional methods– that is to say borderline malpractice. He'd been informed that the man had a lot of potential and had done some growing up since his early days in Fall's Church, Virginia; he just needed a bit more experience out at sea. Captain Swanson had grudgingly caved to the assignment. He still wasn't sure the guy wouldn't be trouble, but orders were orders.

"If I may inquire, Doctor, what did you mean; you did a superficial examination?", the young man questioned with a gleam in his eye that the two other officers didn't like.

"It means that I forwent looking for...," he hesitated for a moment to find the most discrete term to convey what he meant, "internal scissures or other wounds. I have taken a look at the superficial, that is directly visible marks on the Lieutenant's body, and while they exist in a great number, especially across her thorax and collar, Lieutenant Rollins has reasonably explained the nature of their origin."

"Which is... if you don't mind, sir?"

"The activities that led to the acquirement of her injuries were fully consensual, Lieutenant Commander. I can't say more without betraying the doctor-patient confidentiality, and that's really all you need to know."

"It's not uncommon for a rape victim to deny the crime. The emotional trauma and the shame involved often lead to..."

Greg trailed off when he saw the expression that both men's faces had slipped into. Captain Swanson raised his coffee mug to cover the grin, and the good doctor threw him an amused, almost pitying glance. Also, something in their faces told him that he should have known better, though he could not quite think of what exactly that should have been. His glance passed from one man to the other, questioning, until the Captain took pity on him, and lowered his mug back onto the table between them. He heaved a dramatic sigh.

"You don't know a lot about Lieutenant Rollins, do you, son?" He didn't wait for Greg's response as he went on. "Well, it's only natural, I suppose. You have just arrived after all. I'm an old friend of her father, and I've known that girl since she could crawl. Trust me when I say, raping her would be no easy task. And if, by some unfortunate constellation, some guy had actually managed to successfully assault her, she'd march into the nearest Police Department or MP office she could find, and have his sorry ass arrested if she felt like being kind."

"Because she could also slip one word to her SEAL brothers, and we'd never even find the bastard's mangled remains," the Doctor finished. "But, quite frankly, in the most likely scenario she'd just castrate him herself before he could lay a finger on her."

"I know that Navy training includes self defense classes, but...", Vucovik chimed in unconvinced.

"Do you know why she chose a job in Naval Intelligence, son?", the Captain asked, and the lawyer limited himself to shaking his head. "Because she knew the SEALs wouldn't take her, because she's a woman. But she knows all their tricks and moves. Her father trained her in everything, plus traditional martial arts. She could give any SEAL a run for his money. When she was stationed in Coronado they had a betting pool."

Greg contemplated this for a moment. It certainly tied in interestingly with some of the rumors he'd come across in his impromptu research on Lieutenant Rollins potentially assailant. Maybe she hadn't been assaulted, but that didn't mean that there wasn't something unlawful going on with the Intelligence officer.

"Did she say who she engaged in these activities with, sir?", Vucovik asked Commander Taylor carefully.

"Her partner," Doctor Taylor answered promptly. He threw a look at Captain Swanson as he was becoming concerned with this lasting interest from the Lieutenant Commander. Since no crime had been committed, he should have let the matter go by now, but the man remained strangely invested in it.

"Did she tell you who it was?"

"No, and I didn't ask," the doctor replied, and then wanted to slap himself. He'd just opened a door, and Vucovik was bound to march inside.

"Good. Then you won't be betraying the doctor-patient confidentiality if you tell me who it is, sir," the lawyer answered jovially. The sudden paling of Commander Taylor's and Captain Swanson's faces told him what he'd already read in their faces; they knew exactly what had occurred, and were willing to ignore it. However, they weren't the only ones privy to the Navy rumor mill, and a little digging upon hearing of the case, had yielded interesting results. The only thing left to find out was if these two fine officers were covering up a rape case or a fraternization... "I've heard there was a SEAL admitted today with unusual injuries."

Obviously his nurses talked to much. How could this have spread and reached Vucovik in a mere few hours since the incident in the trauma room. "If you already have a suspicion, why are you asking?"

"For confirmation, sir."

Commander Taylor exchanged a glance with the Captain who gave a helpless shrug.

"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett had similar marks on his body, some derive from extensive scratching and others are clearly indentations of human teeth."

"Adding that to the rumors about them..."

"Commander Vukovic, I make it my point not to listen to the grape wine gossip. If I did, I'd have to follow up on every so-called report of indecent behavior amongst my crew, and if I did that, I'd never get anything else done on the Enterprise," the Captain informed him. "A policy that you should take into consideration."

"I will, sir," Greg replied, though no one was convinced, "but, in this case, I believe it merits further investigation. I would like to talk to Lieutenant Rollins myself if you don't mind."

"I can't stop you, can I," the Captain asked rhetorically. "I intend to be present during this conversation."

With that, and without allowing for the lawyer to point out that it might not be the wisest course of action, the Captain led the way through the ship to the Lieutenant's cabin. Doctor Taylor left them to it; he had to return to his duties, though he could only shake his head worriedly. This would no doubt blow up in all their faces. Greg motioned for two MPs to follow them. The action did not go by unnoticed by Captain Swanson but he only raised a questioning eyebrow for the time being. He had a feeling this was going to get a lot worse before it got better. He felt sorry for Lieutenant Rollins who he thought was getting in the middle of some bigger plan of the JAG officer, potentially being made the lynch pin for something. As they reached the cabin, the Captain gave a sharp knock, and announced their presence. The door flew open seconds later to reveal Lieutenant Patricia Sanders with her hair undone and her uniform jacket in a bit of a disarray as if she'd already discarded it and then put it back on in a haste.

"Yes, sir?", she addressed him simply, but inquisitively. Her eyes strayed momentarily to the rest of her visitors, then widened when she recognized the MPs' uniforms. "Sir?", she asked again in a small voice.

"We're here to speak to Lieutenant Rollins. Her shift should have ended. Is she not here?", Captain Swanson inquired calmly.

"Yes, sir, she got off with me – uh, off work, I mean...uhm," Sanders stuttered. She clicked her tongue briefly to bring herself to order, then looked him squarely in the eyes to answer. "She wanted to get some fresh air, though, and went out again. Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"That's what we're trying to determine," Lieutenant Commander Vucovik cut in with an overly charming smile that made Sanders' face slip even more into discomfort. " Was she different than you knew her? Was something off?"

"She was tired like all of us, sir, but-"

"Lieutenant, we know about the injuries."

Lieutenant Sanders was taken aback, and gulped a little. She had not expected this to make the rounds and find tis way to her superiors, much less their new JAG, so quickly. The blob that had been in gut since she recognized the Captain in front of her door turned to ice.

"Well, yes, Lieutenant Rollins came back with some interesting injuries but she assured me-"

"If you could just point us in the right direction, Lieutenant. Where would Lieutenant Rollins have gone?"

"Where we all go, sir, the fantail."

_Fantail_, the Captain thought. Personally, he preferred to call it lover's nest. Only place on the damn ship with some semblance of privacy. It was the logical place to go for some fresh air and quiet and... solitude. Catherine was bound to like that idea after the day she must have been having, and McGarrett probably knew that too. The Captain's sinking feeling grew.

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_(Fantail)_

They met at the fantail, the quietest part of the ship. The only spot on the USS Enterprise where they wouldn't have to pretend for someone else's eyes. Steve was already waiting for her when she arrived. His body was turned toward the door, but his face looked out to the sea. He looked at her when he heard the sound of the door. It was late, and the moon was barely illuminating his face, but Catherine could see that his hair was wet and wondered what his drill sergeant had made him and his comrades do in the middle of the ocean, wondered what hat gotten them a trip to the trauma room. She was just glad they hadn't had to keep him there. There was a bit of a breeze, and she hoped that he wouldn't catch a cold. She brushed that thought away as she stepped closer to him, coming to a halt only a few inches away, not close enough to touch but close enough to feel his heat radiate from his form. When she looked up at his face, she found stormy eyes.

"Something happen?", she questioned.

"Nah, it's just... good to be home again." He was a sailor, heart and soul. Of course he would feel at home on an aircraft carrier. Catherine had to suppress a chuckle.

"Feel guilty about that?", she wondered when his friends and his home on Oahu came to mind.

"Not really, but it's weird, you know," he replied shaking his head. "I've been in the reserves for over a year now, and spent most of my time there with them – on land. I still feel right at home here with the other foul-mouthed sailors."

His lips quirked when he thought of all the clichés about sailors, and which of them were true. He particularly remembered a couple of jibes he'd received rather recently about the manhandled state of his body. Some had jokingly called him weak, said he must be under the thumb of some harpy. Others had admired his 'battle wounds', been impressed and a little envious when they'd realized how wild his night must have been. Steve had both smirked and winced a little at each comment he received, but he had been a good sport and had let them talk, let them fantasize, and wonder in the dark.

"What's that smile for?", Catherine asked as she sat down on a ledge in the welding. It wasn't overly comfortable, but the wind was picking up and pulling at her hair. Sitting down would shield her a little. Steve copied the action so that they were eye-level again.

"I got a few... interesting reactions when I got out of my wet clothes. There were catcalls," he informed her, and relished in her laugh. He didn't tell her about the tension that followed so as not to ruin the mood. He could tell her some other time. "Apparently, I'm quite lucky I survived my fight with a lioness... Did you get any grief about..."

All his mirth left him as Catherine shrugged.

"The Lieutenant I shared a room with in Udeid had a bit of a shock, but she didn't know you. Trish just gave a low whistle when I changed today, and asked if I was in pain. She knows I'd never let you hurt me."

"Are you? In pain, I mean?" Lieutenant Patricia Sanders' had known them from the start and the reaction of an officer in Udeid they'd likely never see again was meaningless to him – unlike the answer to Trish's question. Steve could kick himself for not having asked himself. How had it not occurred to him that as horrible as they looked, the injuries must hurt. They sat down on a small slab of metal protruding from the rails. He raised his hand to gently brush away the collar of her uniform. He felt secure enough to do this here in the fantail, be this close to her and touch if only to check on her. The only bite mark he could expose given the cut of her BDUs was the one on the side of her neck from where he'd sank his teeth into a part of her blue star tattoo. It had turned dark purple and looked raw to him. He almost didn't dare to touch it, but then an idea settled in his head. He must have lost his common sense somewhere in the Gulf because this had been a line never crossed before. Still, Steve decided that the fantail offered them enough privacy for a brief moment wholly theirs. Leaning closer to her, he brushed his lips over the mark.

He couldn't help but close his eyes at the sensation. Her skin was hot under his lips, and he could feel her pulse thrum through it and into him. He felt her shiver, heard her hiss, then moan. He knew he should stop; even this little cove of privacy was not the place and it was not the time for their emotions to govern their rational minds, but he could neither prevent his heartbeat from picking up speed, nor resist the thought that came unbidden to his mind. Once it was there, he could do nothing to banish it. His and Catherine's relationship had always been intense and close, because they'd been friends first, but there had also always been some undefinable quality he could only call 'more'. He had quickly concluded what it was, and it had made him run for the hills, though he'd regretted it as soon as the door to her apartment and her heart had been closed in his face. By some grace of heaven, she'd accepted his apology even though months had passed between one event and the other. What was between them remained unsaid, though they both clearly, if silently, acknowledged it; they were committed and exclusive. The murder of his father had been a turning point for him; his life had been swept over within a few days, and even after the case was solved he remained hurt. Then she'd come to shore. He hadn't been sure if he could take her presence in his father's home. Catherine had never met his father, but Steve had still been so raw, he hadn't been certain if he could hold onto his sanity confronted with any piece of his past life. That's what everything before his father's murder felt like; a past life that was ages old and faded, but also painful. He'd not been over Freddie's death yet, and he'd seen Catherine shortly before that. Freddie had even alluded to it, so he was afraid seeing her face would make him hurt more. Instead it took so much hurt away. Catherine got him like no one else had ever done or ever would, and they'd done a whole lot of talking before they hadn't made it to dinner. Moments before he'd woken up fully, he had known that he wanted to make another change in their dynamic, and if the governor hadn't called him he was sure those three fateful little words would have tripped over his tongue that very morning.

Ever since then he'd been waiting for the right moment to tell her that there was no one else in his life – that she was his life. She would get him, would get why he told her now. Now, hidden in the darkness, he felt that this was the perfect moment and so them. He leaned back to tell her all, and was struck silent by the way she looked at him. Her left hand had woven into his hair, and was pulling at him to guide his lips back to her skin. Her eyes were half-closed and black as the night that surrounded them, and they were focused on him as if he was all there was in the world. Before Steve could utter a word or form a conscious thought, he was on his knees between her legs, his lips slanted against her mouth. Her hands cradled his face, and he nudged her mouth open to stroke his tongue against hers. His hands, that had parted her legs to make room for him, stroked up and down her thighs, and pulled her a little closer till she was flush against his body. She kissed him back passionately all the while her hands moved to his shoulders to push him away and create a little much-needed distance.

"This is not a good idea."

"I know."

"I don't want to stop." She removed her hands from him to stroke across her own face, and gain some semblance of sanity again.

"I know," he said grinning from ear to ear. He let go of her legs, and shifted back to sit on his shins, but did not draw back completely. Being on his knees before her in the fantail of an aircraft carrier while on his reserve drill, was not exactly the position he had envisioned, but Steve figured now was as good a time as any to tell her the words that were burning on his tongue. He tried to say her name, but only a croak came out. It certainly got her attention, though amusement wasn't the reaction he was looking to find in her eyes at this crucial moment. He took comfort in knowing it would soon be replaced by something else. He cleared his throat. When her name finally left his lips, there was so much tension, emotion and promise in his voice that the whisper made her shiver all by itself.

"Cath..."

He'd made it this far, only to be interrupted by the MP storming through the door and arresting him.

**End of chapter 2!**

**A/N:** Uh, that does not look good, does it? How will Steve get out of this one?

What did you think about how they handled Catherine's continued absence?

I read a comment that said it strengthened her as a character because she got to tell 'the alpha male' that she was not coming back and that she had found a place for herself. While I agree that it can be read that way, I'm not convinced that was the writers' intention. Honestly, it seemed more about giving Steve his 'I'm single again' moment so that he could be free for someone else - likely Eliie. I mean, none of the characters ever mentioned Catherine (I'm not counting the hallucination) or visibly missed her. After she left, it's like she never existed, so the scene seems like a cheap way out rather than an attempt at affirming Cath's agency and independence.

Sorry, I needed to get that out.


	4. Chapter 3

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill?

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**Warning****s: **unbeta-ed

**Chapter 3 **

Captain Swanson used one hand to rub circles across his temple in an attempt to keep calm under the onslaught of chaos and bitter fighting he was expecting. Commander McGarrett had not struggled in the MPs' grip, merely demanded to know what it was they believed they were doing. His new JAG had informed the SEAL of the accusations that had arisen against him with grim determination, as well as a certain glee that worried the Captain. McGarrett had thereupon asked the man if he was mad, and set his jaw stubbornly. He had allowed the two MPs to lead him away to the brig, all the while Lieutenant Rollins had protested against the whole situation. She'd repeatedly assured the men hauling her friend off, then Vucovik and finally himself that she had most certainly not been assaulted or forced in any way.

"Sir, it's not that I don't commend Lieutenant Commander Vucovik for his initiative, but this whole situation is ridiculous," Lieutenant Rollins pleaded with him. "With all due respect, sir, don't you think I'd have called the MP myself if what the Commander suspects were actually true."

"Lieutenant, we've all heard your statement," Swanson attempted to placate her. He cast her a stern gaze when he saw her open her mouth to interrupt him. The young woman pressed her lips together, and inclined her head in an unspoken apology. She was wringing her hands on the table, he thought they might be sweaty. Her face was pale and worried, and there was something in her her eyes that she wasn't saying. A quick glance at his JAG told him that he saw it too. Captain Swanson cursed McGarrett and Rollins up one side and down the other in the privacy of his own mind. In the short time since he'd been introduced to Vucovik, he'd learned that the man was like a pitbull; if he found a weakness in your defense, something he could attack, he would sink his teeth into it and not let go. Catherine Rollins was hiding something, meaning that McGarrett was hiding something, and the lawyer had already tasted blood. This would get a whole lot worse, before it got better, and Swanson didn't think that anyone of them would come away with their secrets intact.

"Sir?", Vucovik prompted.

Swanson nodded.

"Lieutenant Rollins, as a JAG I'm entitled, hell, duty-bound to investigate any possible sex offense."

"And I'm telling you, sir, as the purported victim, there was no offense," Rollins insisted firmly.

"And I'm sure the judge will consider that at the Article 32 hearing; he and Commander McGarrett's counselor are already on their way."

Rollins' hands turned to fists on the table.

"Lieutenant, we've heard your statement. We won't keep you any longer," the Captain intervened, before worse could happen.

"Yes, sir," the young Lieutenant replied as she rose to leave. Once the door had closed behind her, the Captain turned toward his new JAG.

"Do you really see a necessity to pursue this in an Article 32 hearing, Commander? Lieutenant Rollins has repeatedly stated that she wasn't raped. I'm not sure how an Article 32 is supposed to create more clarity on the matter."

"Sir," the Commander began calmly, placing his hands on the table for emphasis, "Lieutenant Rollins would hardly be the first woman to cover for an abusive boyfriend, and it's not just the assault either. He's her superior. For all we know Rollins has been coerced into this situation. In any case, their relationship is in violation of Article 92 (I'm not sure it's the right one, because I found two different sources on the matter). As far as their clandestine meeting last night is concerned, it is a violation of Article 133. I have to pursue this."

"They were sitting together in the fantail, Vucovik. It's not like they were making out in a supply closet," Commander Taylor reminded him.

"And are you sure they haven't done that? For that matter, if they were just sitting and talking, what was Commander McGarrett doing on his knees in front of the Lieutenant? What else might he have done in the past?"

"And how are you going to prove it? I think that's the more interesting question," the doctor commented. He rubbed his hand over his face tiredly, then extended it in front of him towards their Captain in a helpless gesture. "That's assuming that there is anything to prove. Maybe the Commander found kneeling more comfortable. Unless you are suggesting that he was proposing to her, I don't see his actions as conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman, and even a SEAL wouldn't propose in the fantail of all places. The man lives in paradise for Christ's sake."

Vucovik sighed.

"Let me worry about proving my case to the judge, sir." His face was determined, and suddenly both his doctor and his JAG were looking at the Captain expectantly. Swanson wanted to turn back time, wanted to ignore the whole thing until it went away; more than anything, though, he wanted another coffee. It was too early in the goddamn morning to decide a good man's fate without liters of coffee in his system.

"Why aren't you prosecuting Lieutenant Rollins? Wouldn't she be guilty of the same offenses?"

"As I said, sir, she might have been coerced by Commander McGarrett. There is, at this time, little point in pursuing both officers. McGarrett holds seniority in rank and years of service, so he has to be the first on whom I place my focus. The judge's decision will decide the future course of action for the Lieutenant."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Commander, you could destroy a good man's carrier," the Captain said, dismissing him. The young JAG left with a nod of respect, and he was barely out the door when the Captain saw a cover sail across the room. His attention was drawn to his doctor, who looked at him none too kindly. His you-gotta-be-kidding-me expression would have gotten him in trouble if the two of them hadn't known each other so long. He appreciated the man's integrity and honesty, which he displayed even when it was Swanson himself, who had crossed a line in the Commander's eyes. "Just spit it out, Taylor, before it eats you up from the inside."

"Are you freaking kidding me, Swanson?!"

"Language!", the Captain warned.

"Rape?!", the Commander went on, undeterred. "Have you seen McGarrett's injuries? 'Cause I have, and he's got the worse deal of the two. Not that he doesn't wear them with a certain pride in his 'accomplishments'. And their relationship – Vucovik's gotta be joking."

"He is, technically, her superior."

"They are not part of the same command chain. Hell, McGarrett's in the reserve, and even before that, they usually weren't even on the same bloody continent! To construe an unprofessional relationship from that, is... it's-"

The Captain got up.

"What do you want me to do?!", he asked, frustrated. "They spend their leave together, sharing living accommodations, and go out when they're off duty. Or at least they do the next-best thing they can on a freaking aircraft carrier by meeting up in the fantail. I don't even want to know what they were talking about out there, but I doubt it was the weather. They flirt and sleep with each other, and that's more or less the definition of an unprofessional relationship."

"In that case, you ought to bring half of the crew up on charges," the doctor muttered.

"Don't you think I know that? I know you can't share a deployment on a carrier without getting attached to your colleagues, making friends and such, and you certainly can't put two-hundred women on a boat with two-thousand male sailors and expect there not to be any flirting. Unfortunately, the regulations are still in place, and our resident JAG has decided to implement a course of action according to them. I can't order him to back off, because it's his bloody job, and it would show favoritism. What am I supposed to do?"

Commander Taylor sighed.

"Let it run its course, I suppose. There isn't really much you can do, is there?"

"No, not really."

"Then let's hope Vucovik doesn't find any of the alleged past transgressions he talked about. Maybe he'll get bored, and everything can go back to normal."

"He may not be very likable, but he's a decent lawyer. I'm sure he's already got something."

"I was afraid you were gonna say that."

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_(Brig)_

The MP guy on duty had had certain qualms to let her into the room with the man who had supposedly raped her. She had made her way directly there, once they had thrown her out of the conference room, so when the MP told her that, she'd brushed past him without another word. The man didn't make a move to stop her, perhaps her expression had dissuaded him. Realizing he couldn't get her to drop it, he made half a move to open the door for her, but a withering glare had him stand back at attention. Catherine knew she wasn't making any friends here, but right now she couldn't care less. Steve was lying with his back to the door when she entered. He looked over his shoulder at the noise, then stood up quickly when he saw it was her.

"Cath."

"Hey, how are you holding up?", she asked softly as she approached the cell. A diminutive cage really, hardly even adequate to house a dog, but there just wasn't that much space on an aircraft carrier. She stepped as close to the bars as she could, and, on the other side, Steve instinctively did the same. Her hands wrapped around the bars, and his in turn moved to cover them. His warmth seeped into her fingers, and Catherine briefly closed her eyes to savor it. Then she set her gaze squarely on him.

"I'm fine, Cath."

She chuckled.

"Let's try that again, and this time with honesty."

"Okay," he sighed back at her stubbornness. "I'm in a tiny cell, accused of a serious crime for which my fellow sailors look at me like I'm a monster, and I'm probably facing court-martial and dishonorable discharge, at best. Other than that, I'm fine."

"Have they given you your call yet?", Catherine asked in a subdued tone.

"Don't need it." At her raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "They're gonna call a JAG lawyer anyway. I've been told they are already on their way."

Catherine frowned.

"What about Danny?"

"...What about him?" The minute hesitation had Catherine snap to attention. She knew something was up from the way he shifted sideways, and wouldn't meet her eyes. When she focused, she could see a sadness in them, and guilt she'd thought she had gotten rid off, and a hint of fear too. She cocked her head wondering what he could be afraid of, before it hit her like a ton of bricks, and she stood, disbelieving, as he continued. "The Navy will inform the governor of this... predicament. Denning will, no doubt, suspend me, and put Danny or Chin in charge."

"Don't you think they deserve to hear it from you? They're your friends, Steve, they'll know it's not true. They're ohana; they'd never leave you hanging."

"What am I supposed to tell them, Cath?"

"The truth, as opposed to the version Vucovik will spread."

"What is the truth, though?" He sounded almost defeated. He walked away from the bars, raising his hands to cover his face tiredly. Catherine moved her own hands to rub soothing circles over her temples; she had a feeling they were about to repeat a previous conversation. She gritted her teeth at the thought that Steve apparently hadn't taken her words at face value. Damn his stupid sense of honor.

"I told you to stop that, Steve. I'm not disgusted with you, why can't you be cool with this too?"

"I wish I could, but I... I'm sorry, Cath. I swear it's not like I don't believe you, it's just... This is not how I have been brought up to treat women. Cath, what I did... The thought of hurting you, of having hurt you. It doesn't matter that you wanted it, I was out of line."

"Yeah, because I'm such a delicate soul, I can't possibly want to have a good fuck with you," she growled, and heard Steve take in a breath. For someone who must be deaf to swear words after all the years in the Navy, he sure listened to her when she was the one using them. It was like a wake up call; it drew his attention, because she so rarely did that. "You were exactly the way I wanted you, Steve."

She passed a hand through the bars to cradle his face, and make him look at her again. She used her grip as leverage to pull him closer to the bars again, until he was sure to feel her sweet breath waft across his lips. His gaze fell to her mouth, momentarily distracted by her proximity, then rose back to her eyes. He licked his lips as he pressed ever closer; he could almost taste her, he was close enough to touch her, and she wasn't flinching away from him, and her eyes didn't question his humanity. Their noses touched as they had the first morning she'd spent in his house, and Steve could almost hear the waves in the background.

"I wanted you, Steve. I still do, and I'd have you right here if the bars weren't in my way," Catherine whispered, the promise in her voice burning through his blood until his breaths came out in little pants.

"And if you wouldn't both be court-martialed for it instantly," a voice commented from the entryway. They sprung apart hastily, then relaxed a little when they noticed that it was only Mick. "Jesus Christ, I know you two exist in your own little world when you're alone, and that you spend most of that time in Steve's bed, but could you postpone the sex talk. Any one could walk in here at any given moment."

The two flushed a bright red, but didn't move further apart then necessary, their hands intertwined around the bars again.

"Hey, I've just heard. Are you alright?", Mick questioned them.

"No, I've got a few hickeys, and everybody is running around like headless chickens, including Steve," Catherine complained, then pleaded. "Could you please talk to him. He listens to you; set him straight."

"I thought I already had," Mick replied thoughtfully, and bit his tongue when he realized what he'd just let slip. Catherine's eyes were stormy when he looked at her. She scoffed at no one in particular, and raised her hands jerkily in surrender.

"Thanks, Mick," Steve grumbled.

"Kitten," Mick started, but she cut him off.

"I don't believe it. I'll leave you two men to talk, 'cause obviously I'm wasting my time here." Then she stormed out. Steve tried to grab her, and called for her repeatedly in an attempt to halt her in her tracks, but she ignored him. She was livid.

"Let her go," Mick recommended. "Give her some time to cool off."

"Yeah, but... she-"

"I'll go after her in a minute, I just have one more thing to say. I warned you that you would create a problem where there wasn't one if you didn't let it go. Why couldn't you just let it go?"

"You haven't seen her, you haven't seen the extend of... what I did to her. I know she was on board with all of it, but..."

"It's not you."

"...No. Go after her, please, I don't want her to be alone right now. She needs you."

"No, she needs _you_. I'll go now, just one thing; I told you so," he said it with a grin, and Steve couldn't help but grin back. "She'll get over it. She'll be back here with you sooner than you can miss her."

"Too late."

"Dude," Mick laughed at him on his way out. "Your girlfriend's got you whipped."

"She's not my girlfriend," Steve said automatically. Mick rolled his eyes at him as he stopped at the door to reply.

"You know, you keep saying that, Smooth Dog, and I keep hearing 'she's so much more'."

With that, he turned to leave.

5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0

Mick joined Catherine outside the brig. She'd wandered just a few steps down the hall, and was leaning against the wall silently fuming. Mick swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and reminded himself that SEALs weren't afraid of anything, certainly not of petite dark-haired women who packed a mean punch and called it a love tab, before he approached her. He knew she'd noticed him when he saw her tense up, but she didn't directly acknowledge him. Sighing, Mick cleared his throat to get her attention. When she looked up at him, her gaze was daunting. The taller man wanted to shrink back, usher her into the brig, and let Smooth Dog deal with his enraged girlfriend himself, but he'd made a promise, and he'd never go back on it.

"I'm sorry, Kitten."

"Not your fault. You tried. It's Steve who doesn't listen, ever. Stupid, stupid, stupid," she growled out frustrated.

"I know, Kitten, but it just means he cares."

"Or that he doesn't care enough. Why can't he just take me at my word. I swear to God I'll punch him if I ever hear him say... _that_ again. Why won't he just believe me, dammit!"

"Because he... Oh God, whatever! Because he loves you, even if he's too thick to just come right out and say it. You should have seen him after you left. He was in a right panic. Catherine, to see you hurt because of him, he can't bear it; is that such a bad thing?"

"No," Catherine conceded. "I told him time and again, though, that it's okay."

"I know, and he believes you; he just doesn't think he deserves to, and it's not like you can prove him wrong at the moment – although I think that comment about getting reacquainted in the brig did a pretty good job."

That had her blush bright scarlet.

"Just forget you ever heard that."

"Can't, you said it, now it's ingrained in my brain as one of the top ten things I never wanted to hear my little sister say."

"Sorry," she mumbled almost inaudibly.

"It's okay, now let's go call his task force."

They made their way through the maze of corridors quietly until they reached the phone. There was already a young Seaman on the phone with his girl back home, judging by the soft whisper-like tone of his voice and the color in his cheeks. Catherine leaned back against the wall, ready to await her turn, but Mick didn't have that kind of patience. He, too, leaned against the wall, but directly in front of the poor Seaman, who quickly cut his call short, and left them alone in the hallway. Mick gave her a self-satisfied smirk that didn't even leave his face when she warned him about getting into trouble for harassment. She couldn't help but feel a little grateful, too. She was full of nervous energy. Her stomach fluttered uncomfortably at having to tell Danny about what had happened. There was no way around it, though. It was unthinkable to let Danny, Chin and Kono find out through someone else. She heard the free line signal a couple of times, and twisted the cord nervously around her finger.

"Unknown number, huh? Hey, sailor, do you miss me already? Or are you just calling about your house, 'cause it's fine. I'm taking good care of-"

"Hi, Danny," Catherine chimed in, before he could really go off on one of his famous rants.

"Catherine?", Danny asked surprised. "I'll be honest. I didn't expect you to call."

"Yeah, neither did I," she replied wistfully. "Listen, Danny, this isn't a social call. It's about Steve."

"What's wrong? Is he hurt? Did SuperSEAL capsize or something?"

"Not exactly, Danny." Catherine took a deep breath to steady herself. She sniffed a little. "Okay, I hope you're sitting right now, because here goes nothing."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"Steve came to pick me up for reserve duty, and we still had a couple of hours to kill, so we-"

"I get the picture," Danny piped up sarcastically, "but I don't see how that-"

"No, Danny, you don't get it. This time was different. We played rough, really rough, and now Steve's being held on charges of sexual assault."

There was a moment of terse silence between them, then she could hear him gasp for breath. She glanced at Mick, who looked worriedly at her. He placed a hand on her shoulder for support, when he noticed that her grip on the phoned turned a little tighter. She was growing pale; Danny's immediate reaction did not bode well for what she could expect next. Perhaps Steve had been right to worry about his partner's response after all. Catherine had only spoken with Danny a few times, but the way Steve had described him to her, she'd expected something else.

"Sexual assault?!", Danny screeched into the phone, loud enough that Mick must have surely heard it. "How could you two let it get that far? How did the Navy even find out? Did you two parade around naked or something?! Jesus, it's so like Steve to get himself into trouble for some stupid Barry White! He-"

Catherine had tried calling his name to get him to calm down a few times, but he'd just kept ranting. Her grip on the phone turned vice-like, her knuckles completely white, and she was trembling. Catherine felt close to tears; she knew her eyes were shining. Mick noticed this, and took the receiver from her with a strong hand. She could still hear Danny ranting when Mick brought it to his ear, but she couldn't make out the words as she wiped at her eyes to prevent herself from actually crying.

"Shut your mouth a moment, Detective," Mick told the man on the other end of the line, then paused briefly to listen to Danny's answer. "I'm Lieutenant j.g. Michael Storm, I'm one of Steve's team mates, and if I tell him that you've made his woman cry, he'll kick your ass when he gets out of this mess."

Catherine pulled the receiver into a position between them. Mick spared her a quick glance as Danny apologized.

"Don't apologize to me, but to her. She can hear you now."

"I'm sorry, Catherine," Danny repeated meekly.

"It's okay, Danny. I get it."

"No, it's not okay, Danny," Mick protested. "Don't let her tell you differently."

Catherine glared at Mick, who just shrugged.

"How did this happen, Catherine?", Danny asked more calmly.

"We have a new JAG on board; I don't know why, but he seems to have it out for Steve somehow. There'll be an Article 32 hearing, and only if that goes through, are we'll really in trouble. Not that an Article 32 hearing isn't enough to worry about. They're flying in another JAG and a judge to preside over the hearing and-"

"Okay, slow down. You lost me at jagg, what's a jagg? And an Article 32?"

"Oh, right, sorry. JAG is an acronym; it stands for Judge Advocate General. It's a corps in the Navy that provides judicial services. We call Navy lawyers JAGs," Catherine explained.

"An Article 32 is a hearing at which the cases of prosecution and defense are first laid out before a judge, so that they can decide whether or not the defendant will face a court-martial."

"Okay, so Steve is not being court-martialed right now?"

"No, and he won't if the judge rules in his favor."

"How long will this take?"

"Don't know, Danny," Catherine sighed. "It could take any number of days. He won't make it back in time. The governor will probably be informed shortly."

"Great, just great. What can I do to help?"

Catherine and Mick exchanged a look.

"Just keep Oahu safe, Danny. That's what Steve would want."

"And why isn't he telling me this himself? Don't you get a phone call in the Navy?"

Catherine licked her lips. She'd asked herself that.

"I think he's ashamed, Danny. He feels responsible for all of this and guilty, and I think he's somewhat afraid of how you might react. He's afraid you'll think less of him. Your opinion matters, Danny." She saw someone approaching out of the corner of her eye and nearly dropped the receiver when she realized who. She could feel Mick shift behind her uneasily as Lieutenant Commander Vucovik came to a halt next to her. Catherine barely heard Danny's reply.

"Guess I didn't react too well when you told me, so... Tell him I have his back, okay. We all do."

She nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see it, then told him she had to go and hung up rather abruptly as Vucovik beckoned her to follow him.

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_(Five-0 HQ)_

Danny walked out of his office into the main room, where Chin and Kono were discussing where to grab a bear. They looked up at him when he walked into the room, and his disgruntled expression must have worried them, because Chin immediately asked what was wrong. Danny jerked forward, then paced back and force a little, occasionally pausing to open his mouth to speak, except every time he tried it would get stuck in his throat. Chin and Kono exchanged a glance, eyebrows raised, then Kono went over to Danny and struck him forcefully on the back.

"Better?"

"Has nobody taught you that violence isn't the answer," Danny sputtered. "Steve got himself arrested on the Enterprise for some rough Barry White he had with Catherine just prior to their transportation to the gulf."

"Wait, what?!", the cousins asked after the words had tumbled out of Danny's mouth at lightning speed.

Before Danny could come up with an adequate explanation, the door to the main area opened for the governor. The mainland detective figured that Catherine had been right in assuming that Denning would be informed shortly, because the man bore a face as long as a fiddle. He stalked up to the computer table around which the members of his task force had grouped himself. He was alone, for once not accompanied by his personal assistant, body guards and what not.

"You're still here, good. I have some unfortunate news for you. Commander McGarrett is being detained on the Enterprise on serious charges, such as sexual assault, engaging in an unprofessional relationship and conduct unbecoming."

"How can you be accused of having and unprofessional relationship and rape?", Kono grunted incredulously.

"I realize that you have been an officer of the law for only a few years, Officer Kalakaua, but I'm sure you've heard of the date rape phenomenon," the governor replied tersely. Kono quickly looked away to hide her scowl, and bit her lip so she wouldn't get into trouble for some of the choice words she might say to Denning.

"McGarrett would never – Sir, that's ludicrous," Chin interjected.

"Be that as it may, I have been informed that there will be an Article 32 hearing to see if there's enough evidence against the Commander to forward this case to a court-martial. I have no choice but to suspend Commander McGarrett, pending the decision of the judge in this hearing, or later at the court-martial, and place you in charge, Lieutenant Kelly."

"Sir, you can't do that. This is Steve's team-"

"No, it is my team, and I can't keep a suspected sex offender in charge of it," the governor declared harshly. He held up a hand when everyone made to protest. "It's already done. The only other choice would be to temporarily disband Five-0, and the task force is having too good an effect in the fight against crime. I'm sorry, but this is the only way."

He turned to leave.

"No, it's not," Danny told him boldly. "You could support McGarrett instead, stick up for your man. You know he didn't assault anyone, you know Steve never would, no matter what you think of him personally."

Denning sighed as he turned around to face his angry task force.

"Unfortunately, Detective, I don't have any proof, and I can't just ignore this."

"You want proof?!", Danny challenged him harshly. "I just spoke to Catherine, his supposed victim, and she said it's complete bull, that the JAG has it out for Steve or something. I mean, as the suspected victim, wouldn't she know if she'd been raped?!"

"Well, they must have reason not to believe her, and barring that charge, there's still the unprofessional relationship and the conduct unbecoming that the Commander will have to answer for."

He left behind a thoughtful task force when he left. The others briefly gave voice to this possibility, but ruled it out very quickly. They'd only ever met Catherine once or twice, but she certainly didn't strike them as someone who'd go back for more once abused. She'd have started this investigation herself if Steve had tried anything untoward. Danny relayed the message he'd received from Catherine, word for word, earning himself some glares when he retold his immediate reaction. Then he suggested they do their jobs until Steve returned, as Catherine had said he'd want them to.

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_(JAG office)_

He offered her a seat in his office. She wanted to refuse but knew he'd only insist, even pull rank on her. If he wanted this conversation to happen, he would get it. He was within his rights to question any victim or witness on board this ship. To an extent, even the Captain had to make time for him and back him up – as the very fact that they were having an Article 32 hearing proved splendidly. She swallowed the lump in her throat and cleared it. This was about the last place she wanted to be. When he moved to close the hatch, she asked him to keep it open. There was no way she would stay in this room alone with him and his secretary, or whatever the young Ensign typing away on his laptop at the other table was. Vucovik acquiesced her request much to her surprise. He gave her a kindly smile as he also handed her a cup of coffee she hadn't asked for. She thought about refusing that, too, but didn't want to be rude and destroy what could be her only chance to get him to shelve the charges.

"Help me understand something, Lieutenant," he began gently.

"If I can, sir."

"How long have you known Commander McGarrett?"

"About eight years, sir. We met in 2002 in Coronado."

"And how long have you two been seeing each other?" Vucovik's kindly smile didn't leave his face, but Catherine now perceived it more as disquieting. She pressed her cover in her hands, which she had taken off upon walking into the office. Now it made for a nice stress relief, taking the brunt of her uncertainty and frustration.

"That's a bit complicated, sir. We didn't exactly... Commander Mc-"

"This isn't court, Lieutenant. Given the personal nature of your relationship, you may call him Steve if you like."

You may not, she wanted to say but resisted. He was taking too many liberties with their relationship already. She didn't need him to play the role of friend and confidant; he was neither. She lightly bit her tongue as the thoughts raced through her head, and kept them inside the privacy of her own mind. What he would have done with her opinions if they had been revealed to him, she did not wish to contemplate.

"Commander McGarrett and I shared a casual relationship for years. He was always my best friend."

"With benefits," Vucovik corrected. "It's more than that now, though, isn't it."

"I would say so, sir."

"Wouldn't he?", the lawyer immediately fired back as if he had hit a weakness in her defense and wanted to see if he could slip past it by exploiting said weakness. Catherine smiled sweetly, happy to reassure him.

"Quite," she replied seriously. He held her stare for a moment, before moving on as if nothing had happened.

"According to the medical report, you have sustained substantial bruising which you claim derives from private interaction with the commander. Interaction of a sexual nature. Does that happen often?"

Catherine sputtered, outraged. She gritted her teeth and, as her lips were stilled pulled back from her previous smile, it must have looked as if she were baring her fangs at him. She quickly schooled her features, though her heart rate was at a hundred miles a minute and her body was almost entirely taken over by the adrenaline rush that accompanied her fury.

"Are you asking me how often we have sex, sir?"

Vucovik chuckled, obviously pleased to have caught her off guard.

"Of course not; that would be harassment – and completely irrelevant to this case. I want to know if you get bruises from your sexual interaction with the commander on a regular basis."

"No, sir."

"That makes it more forgivable, then?"

Catherine wanted to strangle him for the implication.

"There is nothing to forgive, sir. He didn't do anything wrong."

Vucovik had taken out a pen and a notepad at the beginning of her interview, presumably to take notes, but all he'd done with it so far was twirl the pen around while the notepad lay uselessly in his lap. He continued to stare at her blankly for a few minutes, twirling the pen as she held his gaze, then he stood abruptly to turn away from her and put the notepad and pen back onto the desk from whence they came.

"Pity, I'd hoped you could help me understand." He turned back around to her. "I could have helped you more easily then. Now, I guess, we'll have to do this the hard way. I ordered a more thorough examination of your injuries, including internal fissures. Commander Taylor awaits you."

Catherine didn't say another word when he dismissed her.

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_(Brig)_

When the door opened again, Steve was on his feet in an instant. Then his vision caught up with his preoccupied brain, and he realized that it wasn't Catherine who came in. This woman had dark hair too, but she was smaller. Her face revealed her Asian heritage, and she wore no smile on it. She approached him in his cell with a measuring look. She was a full bird Commander, and Steve automatically stood a little straighter. She waved the MP away, who'd stuck his head in to ask her if she'd be okay, before turning back to him and motioning for him to sit down on his cot. Steve noticed the briefcase she'd brought with her for the first time, when she took a note pad and a pen from it.

"Commander McGarrett, I'm Commander Jade Lou from JAG. I've been assigned as your legal council for the upcoming Article 32 hearing. Have you been informed of the charges?", she asked kindly as she held a hand out for Steve to shake. The SEAL nodded as he did just that. "Would you like to make a statement in regards?"

"I'm innocent," he suggested in a lax tone, "but I suppose that's what everybody says. I guess you have something more specific in mind, ma'am."

The Commander nodded.

"How about I'll lay out my case for you, and you jump in with the details?"

"Works for me, ma'am."

"Alright. Lieutenant Commander Vucovik has you detained here under charges of sexual assault, having an unprofessional relationship with a subordinate and conduct unbecoming. From what I have been told, your supposed victim and partner are one and the same." She looked through her notes briefly. "A Lieutenant Catherine Rollins. The charge against your relationship with her would imply that there was some kind of romantic or sexual involvement before or after the alleged assault, is that correct?"

Steve shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like the term 'victim' in relation to Catherine. She was a strong woman, and nobody's victim, certainly not his. He may not be proud of the way he'd acted, but he would never depict her as some weakly puppet on his strings. He nodded mutely at the Commander, for which she gave him a stern look, informing him that she needed more from him than just silent participation. Steve cleared his throat; this wasn't going to come over his lips easily. His relationship with Catherine had always had a 'don't ask, don't tell' character for the Navy. Pretty much everyone around them knew, yet nobody ever said a word, so everyone, including their superiors, could deny any and all knowledge in regard.

"Lieutenant Rollins and I have been... seeing each other for a while."

"How long is a while, Commander?"

"Seven... or, actually, closer to eight years now."

"So you're admitting to the this charge," the lawyer asked challengingly.

"No! We weren't part of the same chain of command, we always kept it separate from work. Of course we didn't... Who's side are you on?!", Steve barked, jumping to his feet and pacing back and forth in his tiny cage.

"Yours, Commander, but Commander Vucovik will no doubt ask you the same question, and you better show a more controlled reaction than this," she warned him, and Steve sat back down with a flushed face. She was right; he couldn't let Vucovik catch him off guard like this. It wouldn't well for either him or Catherine. "I take it that despite her many and diverse injuries, you didn't force yourself on her."

Steve tried to swallow the ire and bile that rose in him at the accusation. He'd thought much the same of himself when he'd first laid eyes on Catherine, but he'd soon overcome that. He wasn't happy with all the pain he must have caused, but he knew she'd been on board with him. Every harsh caress, every pant, every scream of hers had served as proof. Heck, she'd thrown him over and ridden him when he was going too slow for her taste. He had been beside himself, and didn't know for sure what he would have done if she'd refused him, but she hadn't and they'd had one of the wildest, craziest rides of their lives, and he was reasonably sure that they'd unintentionally informed the whole neighborhood of this. No, he hadn't raped her, and for his own lawyer to imply that he had, even as a test, was making his blood temperature rise to dangerous new levels.

"I would sooner cut off my own hand than do that to Cath, Commander, to any woman," he replied stonily.

"And she will confirm this?"

"She confirmed it all the way from the fantail to the Brig while Vucovik was reading me my rights, so I'm mildly surprised that he hasn't dropped that charge-"

"He says that the Lieutenant is hardly the first woman to cover for an abusive boyfriend."

"I did not abuse her," Steve declared again, and only just bit down on his usual answer to the relationship terminology. It would leave too much to explain, and he didn't have the patience. Besides, he wanted Catherine to be the first to which he spoke of the extent of his feelings for her; anything else would hollow out the importance of declaring himself to her – not that he was doing a very good job, considering that he'd been carrying those three words with him for eighteen months.

"When did your relationship start?"

"I told you-"

"Not the exact date, Commander, but you already knew that," the JAG woman cut him off impatiently. "You two worked together in Intelligence about eight years ago. Did it start then?"

"No," Steve answered a little to quickly. He realized it himself, even without the look he got from his lawyer.

"I'm on your side," Commander Lou told him. "Everything we say is protected by lawyer-client confidentiality. I won't be running to Vucovik to tell him all your dirty secrets, Commander, but I'd prefer not to be blindsided if he somehow finds out on his own, so I'll ask you again; did it start then?"

Steve stood up to pace again. Eventually he leaned against the bars to the adjacent cell, and raised his hands to his head to rub over his face. He couldn't believe this was happening. He'd never told anyone this, not even his own team, and now it might be forced out into the open because of some stupid hickeys, as Catherine had called them. If he got out of this, he'd handle her like a porcelain doll, he vowed silently, at least when he was about to join her for his reserve duty.

"Okay... okay," Steve said taking a deep breath. "We didn't start our relationship until my time with Intelligence was done. We... uh... ended up in bed after my going away party. It was my last day, and we had already all clocked out, and Catherine took me home. After that, we more or less fell into the routine of meeting up when we could have leave, and spend the time together – and yes, mostly in bed, and sometimes we didn't even make it there, happy?!"

"There was nothing before that night? Or after during any time when it shouldn't have been," The Commander looked skeptical.

"Nothing serious." The words were almost inaudible. If the MP had come through that door any earlier...

"Let me be the judge of that. I will defend you to the best of my ability, but you're the one who needs to fight back."

Steve chuckled.

"You sound a bit like her. That's something she would say."

"I'll take that as a compliment; would she call you out on your stalling tactics too?"

"Yes, she would."

"Good, then stop stalling and tell me."

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_(Quarters, later that day)_

She had tried to read, to nap and to meditate but Catherine just couldn't shake the turmoil Steve's arrest had provoked or the conversation she'd had with Vucovik hours before. So now, even though work had been exhausting that day, the lieutenant was wide awake and revved up despite the late hour. Having given up on any attempt to sleep on it, Catherine had gone over to pacing the small, frankly suffocating space of the quarters she shared with Trish while airing her grievances loudly. Trish was listening patiently from where she was perched on the top bunk as her friend ranted and raved about her misfortune.

"It's unbelievable how everyone's done a one-eighty. Everyone in the Navy liked Steve, respected him, and, you know, we've had to struggle to get to where we are, but our colleagues always backed us up," Catherine screeched angrily. "But when I came back here, everyone I passed just looked at me like I was infectious or something. They won't look me in the eye when they talk to me, they stammer and if one more person asks me if I'm doing alright, I might explode!"

"You might anyway if you don't take a break," Trish commented. "Breathe, Catherine."

"Fenn on the other hand is being a hardass-"

"More than usual?"

"He received a call earlier at work, and has watched me like a hawk ever since, it's disquieting. I can't seem to breathe from the oppressive stares. Frankly, I'm getting claustrophobic. And that's not even accounting for Vucovik and his assumptions. He kept insinuating that Steve abused me, and all I wanted was to punch him in the face, but every time I looked at him, there was this gleam in his arm. I think making me out to be some powerless victim is just part of his plan; he doesn't actually believe that."

She continued to pace back and forth in front of their bunks as Trish straightened out to let her legs dangle over the edge. Her face had taken on an inquisitive look.

"Wait, you think he's fabricating this idea of you as a victim. What for? It can't be just to go after Steve, what good would that do him?"

Catherine shrugged helplessly.

"Big case like this – it would certainly boost his career." Trish scrunched up her face as she suggested it. The mere thought was distasteful. "But to go to such length just to climb the job ladder, really? I've heard of Vucovik's unorthodox methods, but I'm not sure he'd go that far."

The concept made Catherine's blood run cold as fright slowly seeped into her bones. If this was a career move for the commander, then she could talk till her tongue fell off, he would never listen to her or give a damn about the truth. Anger pooled inside her stomach, burning hot and coiling ever more tightly into itself. It felt like a weighty lump wearing her down. Her fist clenched, her teeth gritted together and, with an angry yell, she turned toward the wall of their quarters unloading all her wrath into one blindly aimed punch. She didn't even notice the pain that went through her when her fist made contact with the cold metal, and only distantly heard her friend jump down from her position on the bunk. She felt Trish's hands gently pull her away to sit on her bed, positioning her hand between them to take a look at it. Catherine looked at her hand without seeing it, and Trish's words of assurance that nothing seemed broken just passed her by. She could identify some bruising, but nothing seemed to be too greatly affected. Trish thanked God for small favors.

"It's a good thing McGarrett didn't see that; you know he'd hate for you to hurt yourself over this."

"But Steve isn't here, is he? I'm here, and he's in the brig, and if you think he hasn't done the same yet, then you're..."

"Hey, hey," Trish tried to soothe her when she stopped to take a breath, enveloping her in a gentle hug. She felt Catherine melt into the embrace and realized for the first time how much her friend truly needed the comfort. For all her anger, Catherine was essentially worried sick and perhaps even somewhat heartbroken over what had happened. Trish understood her quite well. Catherine and Steve had navigated a couple of rough waters over the years, even drifted apart once in the beginning, but this was a particular low for them; threatened to be torn apart by the Navy they both served. "I know this is tough, okay, but you're not alone. Steve may be in the brig, but he's in this with you. We all are. We will get through this, together. As a family, as – what do you call it in Hawaiian?"

"Ohana."

"That's right, as ohana."

**End of chapter 3!**

**A/N: **The plot is moving forward. You may have noticed a tiny crossover with JAG in the character of Vucovik. The two series exist in the same universe, but I'm not moving this story to the crossover section because Vucovik is practically the only tie to JAG. So, don't worry, you'll still find this story in the H50 category.**  
**


	5. Chapter 4

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill?

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**Warning****s: -**

**Chapter 4 **

_(Mess hall, __that evening__)_

The three men sat around her like a protective shield, and the world around them with their friends and colleagues fell away. Laura and Sarah were still working, but Patricia sat at Mick's side across from her. Between bites they were all casting glances at her as if expecting her to fall apart any minute. She wanted to hug them or glare at them, neither of which was a viable possibility. Trish had held her for a good portion of the night after Steve had been arrested, reassuring her time and again that it would all turn out okay. She could feel Jack and Carlos sitting just a little closer than strictly necessary, quietly offering her support and warmth and human contact that was really a rare occasion on an aircraft carrier, even with three-thousand sailors on board. Catherine closed her eyes briefly, and sighed. It was good to know that there was someone amongst everyone who believed her and Steve.

She caught Mick's expression darkening when she opened her eyes again. His gaze was focused slightly to the side of her and Jack. Drawing herself back to full awareness, she noticed that Trish's fork had paused mid-way to her mouth, her iron grip on it turning her knuckles white. Her other two SEAL brothers sat straight-backed on either side of her, hands clenched to fists. Their attention was on something behind them. Catherine frowned as she turned her focus in the same direction. At a table behind them sat a couple of laughing enlisted men and officers, all of whom looking at her in a way that she found disconcerting. No doubt she was the topic of their conversation, but she didn't care about the ship's rumor mill. It could be no worse than she imagined, so why bother listening to any of it. Sailors were always telling stories, mostly fabricating them out of thin air.

"Look at her," she heard one whisper too loudly not to be overheard by the nearest tables, "sitting there like nothing happened. Must really be under the guy's thumb."

"Yeah," another agreed, "she's always acting tough. Now it turns out she has no backbone at all, covering for that frogman."

Catherine scoffed lightly. They were telling her nothing new; she didn't understand what the others were getting so worked up about. There had been bound to be some rumors suggesting that she was too scared to raise accusations against a SEAL. It was a good thing Steve couldn't hear them. He would take it much harder than she, allowing it to add to the guilt he already carried around with him. She grasped Jack's arm in comfort. She wasn't bothered, and if those sailors believed that her friends were here to enforce Catherine's silence, then they were idiots. That, however, didn't turn out to be where the speculation would go as the next comment hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Nah, I think she's just a frog hog; look, she's already found a bunch of new ones to warm her bed, now that the Commander is facing jail time. Couldn't even wait to hear the sente-"

She heard the scratching of the chairs' legs across the floor as her three self-proclaimed protectors got up rapidly, and the conversation fell silent. Catherine briefly struggled with the sailor's accusation about her man-eating habits, but finally calmed down when she reminded herself that it was hardly the first nasty thing she had heard male sailors say about her, or the worst. She breathed out slowly, and grabbed Jack's arm again, which had slipped out of her grip when he'd jumped up. She closed her hand around his wrist, and pulled a little to get his attention. Mick and Carlos noticed the movement, and focused on her as well. Catherine wanted to chuckle; she didn't think even Steve or their superiors got as immediate a response from them as she did every time. Being considered a little sister had its perks sometimes.

"Sit back down, guys. It's not worth it. Nothing they say can touch me."

Mick and Carlos grudgingly sat back down, but Jack took a moment to turn back to the foul-mouthed sailors.

"I'd watch it if I were you. No one insults our little sister," he barked at the men, before taking his place beside her again. Catherine rubbed his arm once softly, and squeezed his hand gratefully. As much as their over-protectiveness chased her up the trees from time to time, she loved that side about them too. Right from the start, it had been a sign of their acceptance of her in their team leader's life. They'd taken an instant liking to each other, and she had always had the feeling that it meant more to Steve than he could ever express in words, even if he complained constantly about how they ganged up on him. Catherine's eyes sparkled as she thought about it. They were ready to go back to their lunch, but some sailors were slow on the uptake, apparently.

"That's right," he taunted the three SEALs. "Go hide behind the Lieutenant's skirt like her Commander. If you are the best the Navy has to offer, God help America."

Now it was Catherine's turn to jump up of her seat, and Mick was on his feet with her in an attempt to do damage control. Sailors getting into a brawl was one thing, an Intelligence officer sending an uncouth sailor to the infirmary to eat through a tube for the next couple of months was another. Catherine really didn't need any more trouble heading her way, because of her relationship with Steve. He walked around the table when she started approaching the Seaman, who had spoken so out of turn, with slow, deliberate steps; a predator's steps. Mick placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, knowing that Steve would rip him a new one if he let her get in trouble for him.

"At least they're not hiding _from_ a skirt, Seaman," Catherine commented scathingly, when she saw him shrink back from her. "And what do you know about who they are, or what they've done for America. What have you ever done? They are good men; Steve McGarrett is a good man, and neither of them deserve you to badmouth them, 'cause of some stupid rumors started by a JAG officer who's obviously trying to make a name for himself!"

Mick cast a side-ways glance around the room, grateful for small favors, in that the aforementioned lawyer wasn't present to hear this. He did, however see the Captain and Commander Taylor at the other end of the room. They were getting up, probably wondering what all the ruckus was about, and making their way over to them. The SEAL needed to defuse the situation fast, or let the Captain handle it, but he was slightly baffled at Catherine's immediate and intense defense of Jack, Carlos and him. Her words were an angry snarl across the sailor's face as she came too close for comfort. Mick was sure the man was close to whimpering at the sight of the feral Lieutenant, and he couldn't help the smile. This kitten had claws.

"Is there a problem here?", Commander Taylor asked calmly as he approached. Catherine took a few steps back as she shook her head.

"No, sir, no problem," she said with emphasis, her eyes never leaving the Seaman's face.

The doctor and the Captain exchanged a doubtful look. They couldn't have missed the quiet threat in the Lieutenant's voice if they had tried. Nonetheless, judging by the stiff postures of Rollins' little band of merry man and woman, the Intelligence officer apparently had reason to be irritated. They had noticed the SEALs getting up earlier, but had considered the matter finished when they'd watched them sit back down almost immediately. The doctor had to smirk a little; Lieutenant Rollins obviously made as good a troublemaker as a peacekeeper, it would seem. A look at his friend told him that Swanson was getting irritated at the increasingly wide ripples the whole situation cast among the crew.

"Lieutenant, perhaps it would be best if you were to take your meals somewhere else from now on," the Captain informed her tiredly. "Starting now."

With a succinct reply, Catherine grabbed her tray and left the mess hall, only just catching the first few words of the Captain's reprimand for the rest of the crew members involved in the argument. She didn't feel like going back to her quarters and eating alone, so she made a beeline for the brig. The Captain had said, she wasn't to have dinner in the mess hall, but he'd never been specific as to where she should eat, and she wondered if he had deliberately left her that opening. Either way, she figured trying wouldn't hurt. She became aware of footsteps following her through the belly of the ship. When she turned around to see who it was, she found Doctor Taylor's concerned expression.

"Are you alright, Lieutenant?", he asked, before she could even open her mouth.

She began to reply, but then just shook her head mutely.

"Anything I can do?" The Captain had once called him the good soul of the Enterprise, and he'd replied that he'd try to be. Lieutenant Rollins seemed in need of support, now that her world was falling apart around her.

"Thank you, sir, but it's just... so frustrating. Few people even know what's happened, but everyone's got an opinion about what's happening, about me and about Steve, I mean Commander McGarrett-"

"No need to hide yourself with me, Lieutenant." He attempted a reassuring smile, but wasn't quite sure how it turned out, because the young woman glared fixedly at the ground. She huffed indignantly.

"I must have said it a million times, but people either don't believe me or they don't give a damn about what I have to say on the matter. I can't help him, Vucovik will probably try to use me against him, and I just hate feeling so bloody helpless!" She sounded frustrated, and angry with herself, and tired of defending her life choices. "And it makes me want to scream! But there's nothing really that you- actually, there is one thing, sir."

"I said I believed you and I meant it. I'll repeat it in the Article 32 hearing."

"Thank you, Commander, but I was referring to your medical expertise," she replied with a small smile, and hope on her face. He raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was going. "You compiled both medical reports about my... condition for the Captain, right?" She didn't want to think about the uncomfortable second examination she had to get through the previous day. Neither of them had been very happy with the situation, but Catherine had been downright mortified. "Could you do the same for Steve for the hearing?"

He didn't even have to ponder that as he returned her tentative smile.

"I already have appointments for the rest of the day, but why don't we meet up with the Commander first thing tomorrow – that is where you were planning to have breakfast, right?"

Catherine bit her lip sheepishly.

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"You want to what?, Steve asked when she informed him the next morning.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Commander Lou added. Doctor Taylor had told her to join Rollins and McGarrett for breakfast; now she knew why.

"Ma'am?"

The lawyer sighed heavily.

"Lieutenant, you're right in thinking that it might proof that McGarrett sustained equally bad injuries during your... interaction. Unfortunately, it could easily be misunderstood as proof that you energetically, but unsuccessfully tried to defend yourself from his assault."

"But I wasn't assaulted."

"It could still go both ways."

"And what if Commander Vucovik brings it up instead – it will look like we hid it, thereby undermining our line of defense."

"We?", Steve asked as he got a word in edgewise.

Catherine turned to him with an unforgiving glare.

"Yes, of course, we. What, you thought I'd sit back and abandon you, Commander?!", she questioned him challengingly.

"No, of course not, but maybe you should... stay under the radar. Vucovik doesn't seem to take much notice of you; I'd like to keep it that way."

"I want him to take notice of me, so that he'll finally listen to me when I tell him – again – that you didn't rape me."

Commander Lou followed the exchange incredulously. Even as her client flinched at the word, he kept protesting her direct involvement in his defense, just as arduously as the dark-haired woman was fighting him to get involved. Commander Lou was taken a bit aback. The way McGarrett had spoken about Lieutenant Rollins, she knew she could count on the woman's support in her defense of him, but she had never expected her to actively take charge of the situation. The Commander had sounded almost defeated when he'd explained how his girlfriend had sustained the injuries she had only heard about up to that point. Reading about them earlier, she found herself almost inclined to follow Vucovik's assessment that something was being covered up by them, that there was something shameful they wanted to hide. She had planned on speaking to Lieutenant Rollins before she was asked to testify in the hearing. Lou wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but certainly not such an investment in the situation. She had half feared to find some hint of a lie in the Intelligence officer's claim of consensus; she was not seeing any. This wasn't a woman sticking to an easier version. Rollins was a woman ready to fight to make people listen to her truth.

Commander Lou scrunched up her nose. The other woman had a point. She'd heard stories of Lieutenant Commander Vucovik, and most of them were not flattering. He'd go to any length to make his case, and even as the they spoke, he was no doubt digging up all the dirt he could get on her charge. Any attempt to ignore Commander McGarrett's injuries, if only to protect him, could be a blow to all her other work, and lead her client directly to a court-martial. There would be enough repercussions for the Commander and Lieutenant Rollins from this hearing, from the public revelation and dissection of their relationship that the Naval Intelligence officer was right; they needed that medical report. It wasn't about proving how the Commander sustained those injuries, but about not cowering before them, about not sweeping them under the rug like something disgraceful. They needed a line of defense that dealt with this, and turned it in their favor. As the lawyer eyed the other woman before her, she figured that, together with the Lieutenant's insistence that she hadn't been raped, it should be enough.

"Okay, time out, you two," the lawyer finally called for silence, because they'd kept arguing for the entire time she'd mulled it over. God, those two sure didn't have a passion problem. They were obviously intense in every aspect of their relationship. "Sorry to say it, Commander, but Lieutenant Rollins has a point. I'm not sure what strategy Vucovik will use for this hearing, but if there's even a chance of him trying to use this against you, we need to be able to strike back, create reasonable doubt about his version of events."

"But-"

"There will be no consequences for Lieutenant Rollins if you do this of your own volition. If Vucovik makes you take an examination, then she'll be in trouble, because everyone will start doubting the veracity of her words. She will be a social outcast."

Steve wanted to believe his lawyer, but he saw Catherine's wince at the last sentence. Something had already happened; people were doubting her words right now. Would it be worse if he didn't let Doctor Taylor examine him? Could he take the risk? He took Catherine in; she was flushed from their argument, but had otherwise been pale and a little shaky. She was obviously worried about him, but there was more. He knew the respect of her colleagues meant a lot to her, and this whole mess had probably already cost her a portion of it. She made a brave face for him, but it obviously hit her harder than she was letting on. Steve wanted to punch something, or rather someone – anyone who had made her feel uncomfortable in her own skin. If this would help shield her from further drama, he'd do this and anything else that was required of him.

"I'll do it," he told Lou quietly, but his eyes stayed on Catherine.

Before the other woman could formulate a reply, the hatch swung open to let in Doctor Taylor, Captain Swanson and Lieutenant Commander Vucovik. There was also someone else, and elderly man in a Captain's uniform. His sleeves bore the insignia of the Navy's legal service. His face looked grim under the mane of white hair, and Steve figured he was probably the judge assigned to his case.

"Commander McGarrett, Captain Delario acquiesced my request to have you examined by Doctor Taylor," Vicovik informed him as the good doctor cast them an apologetic look.

"No need for a court order," Commander Lou told the other lawyer calmly, "the Commander and I have already discussed it, and he agreed to undergo an examination of his own free will, counselor."

"And what was Lieutenant Rollins doing here during this discussion?", Captain Swanson questioned. He didn't need any more legal potholes on his carrier right now.

"Nothing. She came in to have breakfast with the Commander, in compliance with your order to steer clear of the mess hall, sir."

Catherine wisely kept her mouth shut, even as Captain Delario's eyes rested on her suspiciously. She looked down at her half-eaten plate. Steve had barely touched his since their conversation started. Commander Lou had come in only shortly after Catherine. There was no way they could hide her involvement in Steve's willingness to submit to a medical examination.

"I meant eating in your quarters, Lieutenant," Swanson grumbled more to himself than to her as he, too, fell under the judge's scrutiny.

"Sorry, sir," she mumbled.

"I bet the Lieutenant was an excellent motivator," Vucovik snarled. He pointed at the MP at the door, to whom he had turned to speak once the Captain had taken charge of the situation. "According to the guards stationed outside, Lieutenant Rollins was left alone with the Commander for almost ten minutes before you arrived, counselor. Should I be adding influencing a witness to my list of charges?"

Delario scoffed.

"Let's not exaggerate. The man is behind bars, Commander."

"And yet, here she is, sir. If that doesn't showcase the amount of control Commander McGarrett has over the Lieutenant, I don't know what will – coming to heel at her master's feet like a good little dog."

The clanking of her plate as it fell to the floor sounded incredibly loud against the absolute silence that encompassed the brig at that statement. The lawyer, who made it, had the decency to press his lips together guiltily, but Catherine wasn't falling for the false apologetic look he was giving her. Her fists clenched at her sides in an attempt to control her anger. She deliberately slowed her breathing to avoid punching the insufferable man. Every other officer in the room was glaring disapprovingly at Vucovik, except for Steve who knew what Catherine was capable of, and knew this wasn't the time to take his eyes off her. He extended his hands between the bars in a placating gesture, then placed one calmingly onto her shoulder.

"Cath," he tried to get her attention, and caught everyone else's. They looked from him to the woman in question, and only now noticed the change in her.

"Lieut-" Captain Delario tried to call her to order, but Swanson's hand on his arm silenced him. He raised an eyebrow at the ship's captain, who shook his head and mouthed 'watch' to him. Apparently, the man thought that this was something he needed to witness, perhaps for the hearing, perhaps as a life experience. The judge focused his attention back on the unusual pair he'd come to pass judgment on. He looked at the would-be rapist as the man tenderly rubbed the Lieutenant's shoulder, and went to grasp her hand. Hardly conform to regulations, but the young woman did look understandably murderous after the comment. He wasn't quite sure an order would have done the trick, and there was enough legal trouble on this ship for one deployment already.

"Cath, look at me," Steve pleaded softly as he tugged on her hand. She had already taken a step in the lawyer's direction when she did, and he continued in a slow and steady tone. "Leave it, Catherine. He's not worth it. Let's beat him in court instead."

Her posture remained stiff. They both noticed the unpleasant lawyer shift uncomfortably out of the corner of their eye, and Steve wanted to yell at him to keep still already, but Doctor Taylor grabbed hold of him to steady the man. Steve could focus on Catherine again. He wasn't sure he had convinced her, until she smiled slightly.

"It will sting more anyway," she said.

He grinned right back.

"Master-at-arms," Captain Swanson called for the MP stationed outside with a sigh, when the air cleared. The man came in without hesitation. "Escort the Lieutenant to her quarters. I want no further incidents."

"Yes, sir."

"Lieutenant," he addressed Catherine, "I don't have to tell you that your behavior here today didn't reflect the highest standards of conduct I expect from my officers. We lead by example; if you can't do that, you don't belong here."

"...Yes, sir," Catherine choked out, numbly. She lowered her head in shame and frustration. What about Vucovik's conduct...

"Go with the Master-at-arms. A suitable punishment will be decided on later, but leave and privileges are canceled for the time being." He didn't wait for her to leave the room this time, before turning on Vucovik. "And Vucovik, I don't care what you think about Lieutenant Rollins, nothing gives you the right to make a comment like that about another sailor. You will apologize to the Lieutenant, and then I'll decide how to proceed."

"Yes, sir." He turned to Catherine with a politely blank face. "My apologies, Lieutenant Rollins. I was out of line."

"I'll say," was all Catherine replied, not accepting the apology she knew was false as she followed the Master-at-arms.

"Vucovik," Steve caught his attention. He stood close to the bars, his hands wrapped around them tightly. "You ever speak to her like that again, and I'll give you something to charge me with."

"Commander!", the other three men in the room exclaimed with exasperation.

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As the young woman followed him glumly through the corridors of the ship, the Master-at-arms couldn't help but glance back at her every once in a while. Earl pitied her. She was pretty, and obviously smart if she was working with Intelligence, and she had demonstrated that she could be quite fierce moments ago. Now she looked almost broken. The comment had been harsh, and undeserved if half of what he had heard about this woman was true. He had also witnessed the incident in the mess hall the previous evening. She has been through a lot recently, no wonder it was taking its toll. Adding the Captain's dissatisfaction with her conduct, she was looking at some serious trouble heading her way. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but he didn't know what to say.

"We're almost there, ma'am. I think you could use some rest if I may be so bol-" Earl chortled when he noticed that she had taken a different turn a couple of feet back. He called after her; that wasn't the way to her quarters. "Ma'am? Ma'am!... Lieutenant Rollins, ma'am!"

She must have heard him, but she wasn't responding or even looking up. She just walked on towards a destination he didn't know. At this point, he was in a slight panic. If the Captain found out that he hadn't taken her to her quarters as instructed, he was in so much trouble. He briefly entertained the idea to grab her, and lead her back on the right path, but she looked like she was sleep-walking. He thought he'd read something about never using force on a sleep-walker, or try to wake them. In any case, he wasn't sure dragging her back, possibly kicking and screaming, would really work out well for him either. He decided that he would just have to wait it out. She wasn't wandering about the halls aimlessly, that much was sure. She didn't look around with confusion, and ignored a number of turns and possible directions, instead stayed steadfast on her course. The corridors got emptier the deeper they ventured into the ship's belly, until they didn't encounter anyone for several minutes. He was about to question her, where they were going after all, when he heard the muffled sound of voices from somewhere ahead of them.

He cocked his head to the side curiously as he followed her to the open hatch. It lead to a training room; a bunch of sailors were working out in it. Each stopped whatever they were doing as the Lieutenant, the only woman among them, walked past them, while the Master-at-arms froze on the threshold. SEALs, they were all bloody SEALs. Lieutenant Rollins made her way over to two men standing over a third guy lifting weights. The man behind him indicated Rollins with a nod as she came to a halt before them. By now the rest of the SEALs were following the events with avid interest. The man who'd been lifting weights put the barbell back into the appropriate contraption with the help of his friend, and sat up rapidly. He came to his feet more slowly as if he were afraid to alarm the woman in front of him, and make her run off.

"Kitten?", he asked carefully, and the Master-at-arms realized that he must be one of McGarrett's SEALs to be on such familiar terms with the Lieutenant. The other two men with him walked up to shield her on either side.

"Mick," the woman replied in a small voice, and he could hear the quiver in it from the hatch. This was going southwards fast. He suddenly noticed that the Lieutenant was trembling slightly as she stood there at the center of attention.

"Oh, shit," the man, Mick, barked out as he grasped hold of her shoulders. He turned her around quickly, yet gently, and pushed her down onto the bench he'd been lying on. "Kitten, here, sit down."

As he had made her turn, the Master-at-arms had been able to see that the dark-haired woman was crying. The tears were falling from her eyes silently for now, but that just made the sight worse. She was obviously trying so very hard not to break apart that it tore at his heartstrings. He noticed the third man, who had stood to the side of the bench, nod his head toward his person, and gulped when he suddenly realized that every SEAL in the room was looking at him with calculating awareness. Earl cursed under his breath. There was a woman crying in their midst, and he was the only source they could relate it to. He wanted to turn tail and run under their penetrating gazes, but instead he set his shoulders and stood his ground.

"I have orders from the Captain to accompany Lieutenant Rollins back to her quarters," he informed them more confidently than he felt. "On the way, she turned to come here."

"It's alright, Master-at-arms," Mick replied carefully. "We'll take it from here."

"I have my orders, sir," he said, shaking his head emphatically. Something on the SEAL's face darkened.

"And what? You'll carry her back to her quarters?", the man asked challengingly, and Earl had to admit that he didn't have a plan. Lieutenant Rollins certainly didn't look like she'd be ready to go with him soon, and he doubted any of them would let him drag her out, even if he wanted to. Considering everything she has been going through, he wasn't keen on the idea to pile up more stress on the poor woman. Then again, she should have thought of that before it came to any of this.

"Five minutes," he told them. Mick scoffed, but turned back to Rollins.

"Kitten, what happened?" He knelt down when a quiet sob escaped her.

"Everything I do just seems to make it worse," she complained tearfully, a hand raised to cover her face. "Now they think I'm some kind of puppet on Steve's strings. Vucovik just won't let it go; he called me Steve's dog – I'm just surprised that he didn't used the term 'bitch'."

"He what?!", all three men thundered, but she waved them off.

"I wanted Doctor Taylor to examine Steve, in order to use the medical report to prove that he didn't rape me; that I did as much _damage_ to him as he to me."

"He turned that on you, didn't he, Kitten?", Carlos asked quietly, stroking her hair. She whimpered pitifully in answer, and began to cry even harder. "It'll be okay, kitten. The Commander will be fine, and you'll be back on his private beach missing dinner sooner than you think."

Catherine made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"Wait, then you're the woman that used McGarrett as a scratching post?", another man asked as he approached. Catherine's head snapped up with an angry glare, and he took a step away again. "I just meant that I'm impressed. Takes a special kind of woman to dominate a SEAL."

"Don't mind Warren, Kitten. He's an idiot sometimes, but he doesn't mean anything by it," Jack told her. "He's more like me in that regard."

"Just wanted to shake your hand, lady," Warren confirmed, extending his right appendage. In a surreal moment, Catherine took it, and they shook hands.

"So the Commander's girlfriend is one of our fellow sailors? Figures," said another voice, and Catherine didn't like the tone.

"Shut up while you're ahead, seal puppy," she warned quietly.

"Before Kitten wipes the floor with you, Cowden," Carlos snarled.

"Leave our baby sis alone, or we'll line up to deal with what puddle is left of you when she's done," Jack added in a scathing tone. Mick had raised himself to his full height again, and even Catherine had gotten up. Her tears had dried as anger overtook desperation, and she was shaking for an entirely different reason now. "Ignore him, Kitten. There's always one asshole amongst a bunch of good men. He's ours."

"Time's up," the Master-at-arms they'd all forgotten announced. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I have my orders."

Catherine glared at Cowden one last time, then nodded at the MP, who stood waiting at the door for her. When she turned to give the boys her best, they ushered her towards the door hot on her heels. They walked all the way back with her and her escort to her quarters, then made off in their own little group. Catherine called after them to leave Vucovik alone, because she didn't want them to get into trouble to. Enough of it was going around for her taste. They promised her so without hesitation, and that, perhaps, worried her most.

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_(Brig)_

Steve looked up when the hatch was opened again. He and the Captain had had a short, but severe conversation about his threat against Lieutenant Commander Vucovik, while the man in question had gone outside with the judge. His lawyer had stayed a little longer to ensure that the members of the MP, who escorted him through the ship to the infirmary, acted civilly. The whole examination had taken ages, or at least it had felt that way to Steve, as Doctor Taylor cataloged every little scratch on him. Steve had to point out that the bruises on his face where from a car accident, to which the good doctor could only shake his head. The MP had led him back to the brig, and that was the last he'd seen of anyone. He'd been left to his own devices, and he was sure that was exactly how Vucovik wanted it. The JAG officer wanted him to feel alone and cut off from everyone else, like they had chosen to abandon him. There was no doubt in Steve's mind that Vucovik had timed his arrival to find Catherine eating with him. He just hadn't counted on Lou to be there as well.

"Guys?", Steve asked, surprised when he saw his SEAL team come in.

"Hoping we were someone else? Sorry, Dog, Kitten is confined to her quarters, except for work and the hearing. She can't even eat in the mess hall," Mick replied teasingly. Steve smiled slightly, then he took notice of something that Mick had said.

"Wait, what do you mean she can't eat in the mess hall? And how do you know she's confined to her quarters?", their CO questioned, his mind racing frantically as he tried to catch up with what was going on. "What happened?"

His tone had taken on an edge.

"Too many things," Jack told him. "And more will be piling up before this is over. Is there no way to get that lawyer to back off?"

"Jack, don't try to distract me, what happened?"

"We were eating lunch, and some of the sailors mouthed off," Mick finally said. "They called her a frog hog-"

"And we were ready to defend her honor, but you know her," Carlos jumped in. "She told us to sit back down, and that they can't hurt her."

Steve cursed under his breath. He knew Catherine could deal with chauvinist pigs, but he also knew when she was putting on a brave face. The way she had looked this morning didn't strike him with confidence. She was teetering on the edge. Her colleagues' distrust hurt her, and he knew she had been fed up with people mouthing off about her years ago. He never wanted to be the one to put her in a position like this, where her every word was weighed, her every move studied and analyzed in case she'd betray some weakness they could jump on. He rubbed a hand across his face in frustration, because all the while he was stuck in her unable to help her. He wanted to scream.

"She only got really pissed when they said some denigrating things about us and you," Jack added with a hint of pride in his voice. Steve grinned maliciously; he would have paid good money to see the sailor's reaction to being faced with a pissed of Catherine Rollins. As protective as he and the boys were of her, she was twice as bad with any of them.

"And we know about her confinement, because she slipped away from the master-at-arms, and sleepwalked to our rec room," Carlos informed him quietly. "She was moving on autopilot after Vucovik's comment. She was really broken up about it; said that anything she tried to help you would just make it worse. This is really taking a toll on her, boss."

"God," Steve groaned. "This is all my fault."

"It takes two to tango," Mick reminded him, earning himself a scathing look. The SEAL just shrugged. Steve's death glares didn't work on him; that's why they made such excellent friends.

"Anything happen there?"

By the way all three SEALs were suddenly very interested in their own shoes, Steve could tell it was bad. Anger coursed through him, but so did a sense of defeat. Apparently, anything he did or didn't do, made it worse for Catherine too. He hated being so powerless. She was facing all of that on her own, and he couldn't even give her any moral support, because he was always be the last to hear of it. She would certainly never tell him, not wanting to burden him with the information. It didn't lessen the guilt that gripped his heart. If they'd just had dinner – or lunch, whatever – none of this would have happened. He could have surprised her on the air strip, for that matter. He slowly walked back to the bunk, and tumbled onto it. He was too weak to stand. His body felt numb.

"Just tell me," he pleaded with them, not looking up.

"Cowden was his usual charming self, that's all," Mick replied, and heard Steve suck in a breath. "She can handle him. I'm more worried about your partner's reaction."

That had Steve look up.

"What do you mean?"

"Catherine took it upon herself to inform your partner slash best friend of your predicament, since you wouldn't, so that he wouldn't hear it in form of the governor firing you or suspending you or something. He had a slightly... adverse reaction upon hearing it."

Steve sighed.

"Danny's got quite a mouth on him, but whatever he said, he didn't mean it that way. Catherine knows that."

"You sure? 'Cause I had to take the phone from her when she started crying."

That gave his old friend pause. He was surely imagining the scene, with Catherine tearing up at one of Danny's more insensitive rants. Steve had felt struck by Danny's calling him a Neanderthal animal and some other things, even though he had known that Danny didn't mean it as nastily as it came out. With everything piling up on her, perhaps Catherine had taken it more to heart than she would have normally. She was worried for him, and maybe, just maybe, despite everything she had said to him in regard, she felt a little guilty too. Perhaps she thought of herself as the reason that he was in this mess.

"She blames herself, doesn't she?"

"She never said anything, but I think that's obvious," Carlos murmured.

"I need to talk to her; she has to know she's not responsible. She has no reason to feel guilty, she-"

"Ah, Steve... pot, kettle," the other three men pointed out in unison. Their CO had the decency to flush in embarrassment.

"We both need to move forward, I guess," Steve relented. He looked at Mick. "I'll talk to Danny. I'm sure he didn't mean it, but... I'll talk to him. I... look after her, okay. I'm stuck in here, except for the trial, so just... be there for her." _Wh__ile__ I can't_, he added in his thoughts.

"Always, Steve, you know that," Mick told him seriously.

"Thank you."

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_(Conference Room)_

Sitting in the converted conference room to partake in Steve's Article 32 hearing instead of working in the cramped space allotted to Naval Intelligence in the belly of the ship, was surreal. The room was cramped with people, witnesses and rubbernecks, and she hated it. There weren't even enough seats any more, so some men were standing at the back or on each side of the room to watch the spectacle begin. Catherine had quietly taken her place in the first row behind Steve and Commander Lou. Her hands were twisted in her blue working uniform as they waited for the judge. Trish was sitting next to her, her back straight, and trying very hard not to look nervous for her sake. They stood together when Captain Delario entered. The older man stood still for a moment when he noticed the seating arrangements that included Captain Swanson and Commander Taylor clearly on the defendant's side. He surveyed the rest of the room, before he finally sat down.

"Alright," the judge started the session, "for the protocol; this is an Article 32 hearing, the convening authority is Captains Swanson of the USS Enterprise. The defendant is Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett, charged with rape in concurrence with sexual assault, further engaging in an unprofessional relationship and conduct unbecoming an officer and gentleman. Are there any preliminary motions?"

"Yes, your honor," Commander Lou spoke up immediately. "We ask that the sexual offense charges be dropped. There is no evidence to sustain such a clam; even the purported victim denies them."

"Your honor-" The judge held up his hand to cut Vucovik off.

"This isn't a court-martial, counselor. We are here precisely for the reason of deciding whether or not there is enough evidence to put Commander McGarrett on trial. I'll give the state some leeway, and you may present your case then."

"Yes, your honor."

"If there's no other motion, the state may lay out its case against the defendant."

"Thank you, your honor," Lieutenant Commander Vucovik replied seriously, and Catherine's heart sank. She'd felt a spark of hope, when Steve's lawyer had first mentioned the motion, but Judge Delario had been rather quick to squash it. He was willing to hear all sides, but she had hoped for something more due to the substantial lack of evidence. She cast her eyes down, then raised them again when she heard the scratching of Vucovik's chair over the floor as he stood up. He turned around, and for a moment she thought he was looking at her. She could see Steve's shoulders stiffen out of the corner of her eyes, but then Trish squeezed her hand, and Catherine was distracted. She hadn't expected to be called on so soon. "The state would like to call Lieutenant Patricia Sanders into the witness stand."

Catherine's head snapped around. Trish mouthed an apology to her, and in her eyes she only found more apologies. It shouldn't surprise her that Vucovik would call her friend to the stand, but it did. It struck her especially hard that she hadn't known beforehand. She knew Trish, and her friend had probably just tried to shield her from more stress, but Catherine would really have preferred to hear it from her. Trish squeezed her hand one final time, when she stood up. She squared her shoulders, then walked the short distance to where a chair had been prepared for the witnesses. They weren't in a real court room, but they made do on the Enterprise. Vucovik swore her in, then let her sit down beside the judge's table.

"Please state your name, rank, occupation and how you know the defendant for the record, Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant Patricia Sanders, Naval Intelligence aboard the USS Enterprise. I know Commander McGarrett from a seven-months period in which we worked together in 2002, sir."

"You're also familiar with Lieutenant Catherine Rollins, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir, we're bunkmates, and we work together in Intelligence."

"Now, according to Commander Taylor's medical report – we'll hear the Doctor on this later – and a written statement from Lieutenant Moira Young from Udeid base, Lieutenant Rollins sports a number of injuries from sexual activity. I'd like to present these as evidence," Vucovik explained as he handed the judge a folder with her medical report and another sheet of paper. Then he turned back to his witness. "Do you know about this?"

Trish took a small breath.

"Yes, sir. Upon arriving on the Enterprise, Lieutenant Rollins and I went to deposit our duffel bags in our quarters. We had a few extra minutes, which the Lieutenant took to change. I saw the... injuries then," Trish replied more confidently than she truly felt. She could see Steve's stony face, and knew he didn't blame her, but that didn't really make her feel better about what was coming out of her mouth.

"How would you describe them?"

"..." Vucovik stepped into her line of sight to obscure Steve from her view.

"Lieutenant?", he asked kindly, but she could practically see his forked tongue between his lips.

"Extensive. They cover almost her entire body as far as I could see."

"What kind of injuries are we talking about?"

"Bruises-"

"What shape? What color?"

Trish nearly chocked. She knew what the lawyer was trying to do here. He was painting a picture picture for the judge, a gruesome picture to imagine when he would be deciding on McGarrett's fate at the end of this very hearing, and she was his brush. She set her jaw; the more reluctant she seemed, the more her words gained weight. She had no choice, but to answer, yet she could choose how to answer. If she was going to sit here, she would act like a professional.

"Some were clearly from gripping, others were more generic, but certainly indicated some rough handling. There were bite marks; I could see the indentations. Some were scabbed over, so they must have bled at some point."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Vucovik told her, then gave a nod to the defense council. "Your witness."

Commander Lou rose calmly. She wasn't overly impressed with this opener, but she had a feeling that Vucovik was just getting started.

"Lieutenant Sanders, would you say that you and Lieutenant Rollins are friends?", she asked carefully.

"Yes, certainly."

"And as her friend, did Lieutenant Rollins say anything to you about how she acquired those injuries when you first became aware of them?"

"Not exactly. I noticed one of the hickeys when she opened her uniform buttons. I asked her if she had a rough night. She didn't say anything, just turned around with a big, cat-that-ate-the-canary-type grin. She seemed very pleased with her self. I asked her if she needed a Tylenol; that was it."

"What about later conversations?"

"She says it was consensual."

"Do you believe her?"

"Absolutely," Trish replied without hesitation.

Commander Lou sat back down, and Trish was ready to breathe a sigh of relief, when she noticed that Vucovik got up again. Some part inside her wanted to scream; what more could the man possibly want from her? There was nothing else to tell, but the Lieutenant Commander's eyes held a calculating gleam. Trish felt that he was about to take a shot in the dark, and while that was considered a bad idea by most lawyers, she'd heard that he had won cases by following his instincts. Trish just worried what they were telling him about her.

"So the Lieutenant didn't say anything to you; what about non-verbal signs? Was she edgy around the Commander, jumpy or unusually tense?"

"As I told Commander Lou, she seemed very pleased with herself, and I didn't notice her acting differently around Commander McGarrett."

"Nothing, then? No change in behavior? There wasn't anything different about her?"

Trish gulped, as she looked at her friend. Catherine had gone pale, probably thinking the exact same thing she was thinking herself. She hadn't paid it any mind at the time, and she was sure that it didn't mean what the lawyer was implying, but that wasn't what it would look like. If she opened her mouth, she would dig her two friends in a little deeper, yet she couldn't lie to the judge. Vucovik had obviously caught on, because he prompted her again, reminding her that she was under oath to tell the truth at this hearing.

"When I saw the first mark, she told me there were more, a lot more. She sounded unsure. She was nervous about showing me the full extent, and then, when I'd seen all of it, Lieutenant Rollins was very relieved that I believed her..."

Lieutenant Commander Vucovik thanked her for her honesty – the nerve of that man – and Captain Delario released her with a grave expression on his face. He was obviously struck by her recounting of the events. Trish stood up shakily, and made her way back to Catherine. As she passed Steve and his counselor on her way, she mouthed 'I'm sorry' to him. He gave an almost imperceptible nod, telling her that he didn't blame her, though she had just made his defense a whole lot more difficult for Commander Lou.

**End of chapter 4!**

**A/N: **There is a lot on the line for our happy couple. Let's just hope their witnesses are convincing.**  
**


	6. Chapter 5

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill?

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**Warning****s: **if you're **squeamish**, you might wanna skip the doctor's statement**  
**

_**A/N: To readers and reviewers. You are great; thank you for all your support.**_

Gone2Far: Glad you found it. I've obviously taken a few liberties with regulations and such for the story to work, so I'm glad it's to your liking.

LuckyStarPham and Narwhayley: Original characters can always be a bit difficult to accept, so it's nice to hear that Steve's team is likable.

St: Wow, that's quite a compliment. Writing these takes quite a while, so positive reviews and constructive criticism are always greatly appreciated. Thank you for taking the time.

FicreaderT: Well, my ship's crew - with few exceptions - is modeled after the JAG office. So Swanson is essential Admiral Chegwidden who always took care of his own, and Steve's team is part of the family, of course.

ACndCA: I picked Vucovik because I didn't really like him in JAG, he was just too slippery. The only time I respected him was when he helped that underage marine in the last episode, I think. I thought he made an excellent antagonist.

**Chapter 5 **

"Have you considered a guilty plea?" Commander Lou had barely made the suggestion when a set of very angry eyes metaphorically felled her, and they weren't the Commander's own. The lawyer could feel Lieutenant Rollins' glare on the back of her head as if the woman held an actual dagger to her throat. "Not on the rape but regarding the unprofessional relationship part. It would shorten this whole process down, and you'd probably get away with a slap on the wrist as long as Lieutenant Rollins confirms the sex to have been consensual."

"I have considered it," Steve replied carefully, almost expecting a verbal onslaught from his girlfriend, but she was apparently too shocked to say anything. He turned back toward her briefly with an apologetic gaze as he found her glaring daggers at him now. He saw his counselor's smirk, and understood the woman's amusement. He and Catherine had a decidedly unconventional relationship. He needed to explain. "I thought about it, because I thought to spare you this. We both know Vucovik is not done in using our friends against us, and I didn't want this to cause rifts between you and everyone."

"Steve, we're in this together. You should have told me," she told him firmly, laying a hand on his shoulder. Her fingers automatically began kneading the tense muscles she felt underneath his uniform. What she wouldn't give for a moment alone, a moment of peace to be wholly herself and able to tell him everything, able to hold him instead of squeezing his shoulder. She shook her head at him when he turned more fully to her, indicating what she thought of the lawyer's idea. They would not be bullied into any false admissions, even if it meant facing worse. It would be like letting Vucovik win, and she wasn't willing to do that. With another, slightly stronger squeeze she told him that she would follow his example, though. Steve's small smile was a lovely sight to see, reassuring and private all in one.

"You definitely should have told me, Commander," Lou informed him matter-of-factly, hating to break up their little moment, but aware of the watchful eye of her colleague and the judge, though perhaps it would do them some good on the violent charges if Delario witnessed their interaction. "Why didn't you go through with it?"

"Because it would mean opening the line of fire on me," Lieutenant Rollins answered for him.

Lou nodded without looking at the Commander again.

"Of course; if he was guilty of having an unprofessional relationship with you, you would be automatically implicated in the same transgression," she surmised thoughtfully, exchanging a look with the other woman. "Quite the chivalrous knight your Commander, isn't he?"

She could see Rollins' hand on the SEAL's shoulder tighten its grip as if to say 'mine'. The accompanying Mona Lisa smile and politely blank expression sure got her message across without giving any hint of insubordination on the Lieutenant's part. Lou almost wanted to applaud her, though she had to suppress a chuckle when she noticed the Commander look between his girlfriend and herself with a downright clueless expression, aware that something was going on, but unable to pinpoint the exact meaning.

"You're doing that woman thing, aren't you?", he asked Catherine as Commander Lou raised an eyebrow at the moniker. "You're having an entire conversation without saying anything at all to each other."

"Quite," was all the Lieutenant answered, then the judge granted Lou's request to be allowed to deliberate with her client in a separate room. She had intended to discuss the matter of his plea elsewhere too, but hadn't been able to resist as she watched McGarrett sit next to her with his eyes closed as if concentrating on feeling who was behind him rather than concentrating on the hearing. She herself could feel the raw energy coming from her client's supporters sitting behind them in several neat rows of seats, and including just about every Navy SEAL that could squeeze into the conference room. She led McGarrett to her nearby temporary office space, and, far from his friends and the hearing for which he needed to appear strong, the man lost a little bit of his confidence. He sat a little more slumped than she would have expected, though the last few days were bound to have left a mark on him too. She took a moment to watch him curiously, before she elaborated on why she had wanted to talk to him.

"That was a bit of a draw back," she began.

"Can we beat this?", he immediately interrupted her,t hen mumbled an apology when he saw hewr severe face.

"That depends; on what other surprises Vucovik serves up."

"Then we're screwed. I bet he's planning to drag up every misdemeanor starting with my great-grandfather."

"That won't matter as much if you're honest with me. When we first met, I asked you if there were things that I needed to know. You told me you had kissed Lieutenant Rollins in the fantail shortly before the MP came to arrest you." She sighed loudly. "I should have questioned it then, but I was a bit stunned by the ready admission. Now I realize that it may have been more a distraction than an admission. What is there, because I'm sure there is something, in the recent and distant past that Vucovik can use against you and, or Lieutenant Rollins, Commander?"

Steve heaved a sigh.

"We almost kissed again, here during one of her visits to the brig," he admitted to an eye roll from his defense council. "Hey, we were upset and somewhat fighting and you asked, anyway."

"Back up – fighting?"

"Yep, about how I didn't rape her," he said in such a forlorn tone it tore at her heartstrings.

"Why, weren't you in agreement on that issue?", Lou questioned, wondering if she'd get a different version after all. Lieutenant Rollins had seemed so strong and confident, so convinced of her own truth – was it only a compromise the two of them had made? Was there more to this story of their encounter? She cocked her head to the side, suspicious of how the Commander wouldn't meet her gaze this time.

"I didn't rape her, we both knew that," he said slowly, enunciating it more than necessary. "However, Catherine and I seemed to have a different definition of the appropriate use of physical strength during intercourse." Lou raised an eyebrow at how the SEAL suddenly turned clinical on her. "I regret, more than anything, how I treated her during... what happened. I was too rough, too uncontrolled. I'd just been hit by a car, and it turned into one of those life-affirming rolls in the hay that you read about it cheap novels. It's not like we've never had rough sex before, this was just..."

"Different?", Lou offered, and her client nodded tersely. He'd glanced up at her when he had told her about his regret, intent on making her understand that he meant it. She believed him.

"I don't know... I can't explain why, but it was. It wasn't right, and I told her as much. She was less than pleased as we've had that discussion before – Catherine hates it when she has to repeat herself. She told me that I... uh, gave her exactly what she wanted." Steve scratched his head in embarrassment. He never discussed the intimate details of his love life with his SEAL brothers or with Danny, and laying it bare to this stranger now made him shift uncomfortably on his seat. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was not into giving anyone ammunition of any kind on his and Catherine's private life.

"And then you almost kissed?", Lou asked incredulously, stressing the 'almost' sarcastically.

"Well, Catherine came closer, as close as the bars would allow her, really, and told me... some things," he admitted slowly, then rushed on to get away from this topic, "and that's pretty much when Mick came through the hatch."

The lawyer looked to the side briefly, irritated at the lack of cooperation from her charge.

"She propositioned to you?"

"Essentially," the Commander replied, then elaborated as he saw his lawyer's grit teeth. "She told me she would have me right there if the bars weren't in the way, and yes, I was picturing it, happy?!"

"Ecstatic," she replied, imitating his attempt at a one-word answer. "Anything else?"

Steve combed a hand through his hair with another sigh.

"You already know that she lives with me when on leave on O'ahu, we go out with my team, never manage to have dinner, and yes, that's code for sex, and sometimes we skip breakfast, too. You've seen us interact; that's essentially a distillation of our relationship. When we worked together we'd go out with colleagues or with my SEAL Team when they were available. I've been privy to some of her girls' nights out, and she's probably assisted to more guy talk between Mick, Jack, Carlos and I than I am comfortable thinking about. Usually our friends would abandon us halfway through the evening, then we'd have a couple more beers and I'd walk her to her door. First time she was on her period since I knew her, I happened upon it by accident, because I knocked on her door to ask why she wasn't coming out with us that night. When I'd finally coaxed it out of her and gotten over my initial shock, I got chocolate chip ice cream and her favorite movie, The Notebook, and some other chick flicks and we spent the evening in front of the TV. Became a regular thing after that, and I kept track of her menstruation – partially because I enjoyed our evenings in, partially because she was an emotional mind field and just as lethal during working hours."

After having to worm every other answer out of her charge, the long monologue nearly flattened Commander Lou. Then her brain went into complete tilt at the lax mention of Lieutenant Rollins' menstruation cycle; the only other male members of the species she had heard speak so casually about it without going all pale and shaky had all been doctors, so she needed a moment to get to the gold nugget of information in there. When she did, Lou was the one who blanched, because this could get seriously, seriously bad for them if Vucovik came to the same conclusion.

"Wait, you were alone with Lieutenant Rollins while you two worked together – in her apartment?! Alone. Once a month."

5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0

_(Conference Room)_

"Have you been able to settle any remaining issues with your charge, Commander Lou?", Captain Delario asked when the hearing was back in session.

"As far as they have arisen, you honor," Lou confirmed, keeping herself the possibility open to request another break.

"Then let's hope no further issues arise; it smacks of bad preparation at best," Vucovik commented dryly, clearly intending dishonesty on McGarrett's side instead. Lou rolled her eyes at his smirk and sideways glance, but the SEAL in question had understood too, and was glaring daggers at the lawyer.

"Let's continue, then," Delario broke up their little mental struggle. He had not forgotten McGarrett's threat toward the other man from that horrible day in the brig, and he didn't want any violence in his makeshift court room. Especially if it meant having to peel Vucovik from the wall as he doubted the man would be able to hold his own against a SEAL, and the Captain feared an actual brawl might break out with all the other SEALs present during the hearing.

"Yes, your honor. The prosecution would like to call Commander Taylor to the stand."

A needle could have been heard dropping as the doctor made his way to the right of the judge, stating his full name for the record. He was handed two folders by the lawyer, and informed the court that they were Lieutenant Rollins' and Commander McGarrett's medical reports when asked to do so. He then spent the next several minutes detailing an extensive list of bruises, scratches, bite marks and other injuries for the present audience. They sounded ugly and painful, and a lot of eyes shifted between McGarrett and Rollins as if hoping to catch a glimpse of these 'battle wounds' underneath their uniforms. Both sailors were sitting ramrod straight in their seats, tense at how horrible the recounting sounded even to their own ears, though to the surprise of everyone but them, the list of the Commander's injuries turned out to be longer.

"Are these injuries conform of any particular human interaction that you know of in your expertise as a doctor, Commander?", Vucovik finally questioned. "If you didn't know the accused and Lieutenant Rollins, if you only read through these files, perhaps seen pictures of them, what would your conclusion be?"

The doctor cast Vucovik a dark glance at the calculating question, but answered with a sigh, bound to respond.

"I would assume some kind of sexual assault having taken place, most likely by the Commander on Lieutenant Rollins as male-on-female sexual assault is more common."

"Even though the Commander is also injured?"

"I would, at first glance," Taylor said, stressing the interjection carefully and looking at the judge directly as he did so, "consider them to be defensive wounds caused by the victim. However-"

"Thank you, doctor. Please answer only the questions put to you," Vucovik requested, waiting for Taylor to grudgingly nod his head in acceptance. "In your career, how many women have you treated for injuries sustained due to sexual assault."

"I wouldn't know-"

"Nobody expects you to recall an exact number; the Navy has records for that. Round about, what do you think?"

Taylor shrugged. "Maybe a few dozen."

"Your honor, the defense would like to know what this has to do with the case on hand?", Lou questioned emphatically.

"So would I, Commander. I'll allow it, but get to the point, counselor," the judge advised Vucovik.

"Of course, your honor," Vucovik assured him. "According to the records, there were 8 official victims, but you included a note regarding potential rapes in an additional 33 case files. Why would you do that?"

Lou considered to object as they were now discussion privileged medical files, but thought better of wasting her breath. She had an inkling where this was going, and Captain Delario interest was obviously piqued.

"Because the injuries I treated corresponded to that of rape victims in my experience, but they aren't official cases because the women never admitted to being assaulted," Taylor answered, knowing that holding back would only make Vucovik come after the whole answer harder.

"33 of the 41 women didn't admit to being raped, but you are reasonably sure they were. Sure enough to include it in your reports. You also just confirmed that Lieutenant Rollins' injuries match as well, yet as we have heard, the Lieutenant insists that she wasn't raped. In light of these findings, is that unusual in your experience?"

Taylor hesitated, looking at Steve and Catherine, and knowing that this would be a blow worse than the one dealt by Lieutenant Anders.

"No, all of the 33 women insisted that they hadn't been raped as vehemently as Lieutenant Rollins does."

"Do you have any definite proof to offer that Lieutenant Rollins wasn't raped?"

"No, but neither do I have any definite proof that she isn't telling the truth," the doctor answered before Vucovik could stop him. With a disdained face, the lawyer sat back down to allow Lou to ask her own questions. The female JAG noticed a thoughtful expression on the judges face as he glanced between Doctor Taylor and Catherine Rollins. The medic's opinion obviously meant a lot to Captain Delario, due to an old acquaintance or his great experience, and Lou intended to use that to her advantage. She didn't need complicated and long interrogations, though. She needed only three questions. In her experience as a lawyer, the simplest answer was usually the most effective one.

"After these proceedings were decided upon, you did a full examination of Lieutenant Rollins' injuries, including possible internal laceration that are common for rape victims. What did you find, and what conclusions does this allow?"

"These laceration derive from lack of... well, of preparation, with the woman not being able to get aroused for obvious reasons. The female body doesn't lubricate itself enough, hence the vaginal bleeding often associated with rape. There were none of these lacerations on Lieutenant Rollins, implying that the intercourse was consensual."

"You don't think the Lieutenant was raped, it would seem."

"I don't," Taylor said decisively. Lou paused a moment, letting that answer sink in as she watched the judge's expression, watched him turn his head to look right at the purported victim again, as if seeing her for the first time.

"At the most basic level, why is that?", the JAG asked then.

"Because I believe her," the doctor answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Lou had barely thanked the doctor and sat back down when Vucovik got up to call for his next witness. Delario held up a hand, and called both counsels and Commander McGarrett into his office to discuss the proceedings.

Once both lawyers and the defendant were in the room and the door was closed, Delario looked sharply from one to the other. His gaze finally came to rest on the reason for the current predicament. Lieutenant Commander McGarrett didn't look like much of a Navy SEAL at that moment. He was pale and stressed out, but there was certainly spirit reflected in his eyes as he held the judges gaze. The Captain cocked his head to the side as he surveyed the younger man. The situation had deteriorated so fast in the brig that he hadn't taken the proper time to evaluate the man beyond the accusations. He knew McGarrett had a spotless record, held the respect of all his comrades and superiors. Nonetheless, there were some serious dents in his defense, judging by the statements of every witness heard so far. On the other hand, no one except the prosecutor seemed to think him capable of the crime he stood accused of. Delario mentally shook himself, and turned his attention back to everyone equally.

"In light of witnesses heard today, I'm not sure the rape charge holds up under scrutiny," Delario informed them. "I would advise the prosecution to drop it."

"Thank you, your honor," Commander Lou said, while McGarrett's head snapped around in surprise and Vucovik began to protest.

"Your honor..."

"Commander Vucovik," the judge interrupted him holding up a hand, "so far, there is no indisputable evidence that there was some form of a sexual assault, only ambiguous leads that can be interpreted either way. Under these circumstances, if the purported victim denies any charges laid, I don't see reasons for a strong suspicion of a criminal act."

"Isn't that what this Article 32 hearing is for? That's what I set out to prove, sir," Vucovik replied.

"Your honor, if I may?", Lou cut in quickly. She went on upon receiving the go ahead through a nod of the judge. "I know it is highly irregular, but you could quickly hear Lieutenant Rollins herself on this right now, with Commander McGarrett waiting outside, obviously. Without him present, there can be no talk of witness manipulation, and it stands to reason that whatever comment she gives here would also be her statement on the stand, thus eliminating any remnant doubt."

"Your honor, this is clearly a tactic of the defense council to rule out the harshest possible outcome for the defendant who stands accused of a very serious crime for a reason," Vucovik instantly argued.

"And this is obviously an attempt of the prosecution to drag the defendant's name further through the mud, with no evidence to support his preposterous claim against a man with a spotless-"

"No evidence – were we in the same courtroom? You can't be-"

"Counselors," Delario called them both to order. "I agree that this is irregular, however, the potential benefit outweigh any unease as to the irregularity." He turned to Vucovik. "You say the Commander stands under charge for a reason, but, if I am to be frank with you, thus far I fail to see it. I believe it would be of great help to hear what the victim has to say about this, so unless you were planning on calling her to the stand next..."

There was a moment of terse silence.

"Then I will hear her now." He went to the door and told the guard to fetch Lieutenant Rollins. As she made her way over to them, he held the door open for Commander McGarrett to leave the room. He left the younger man under the supervision of the Master-at-Arms. As the Commander and the Lieutenant passed each other, he caught a brief glance between them. Though he could only see Lieutenant Rollins' half of the look they exchanged, he could tell that the two shared an entire conversation in that brief moment. He certainly recognized the concern in the dark-haired woman's gaze, though it obviously wasn't for herself. He filed that thought away for later as he found it incredibly unlikely for a rape victim to show concern for her aggressor. Especially, since the Navy was still very much a man's club, and any woman joining in would sink or swim. Judging by the high regard of her superiors, and by what he had seen of the woman in the brig, Catherine Rollins was certainly a swimmer. Then he saw the Commander turn to watch her as she passed him by, and watched her head twist at an uncomfortable angle as she tried to keep him in her line of sight. She came in and he closed the door behind her and the moment was gone.

"Lieutenant Rollins," Delario addressed her, and she automatically stood at attention, "you have been asked to join us on the unusual suggestion of the defense council to give your account of what happened prior to your departure for the Enterprise."

"...In detail, sir?", the young woman asked hesitantly.

"However much you deem necessary and are comfortable sharing," he replied flustered. "You're not supposed to spread out intimate details of your... life, Lieutenant... There's no pressure, we just want the truth."

Lieutenant Rollins took a steadying breath as she thought over the answer.

"I had 48 hours shore leave, and Commander McGarrett invited me to be his plus-one at the governor's fund raiser," she began calmly. "As usual, things didn't go the way we planned them when our evening got blown up by a case that kept him occupied the entire two days. When he came to see me off at my house, he was carrying a duffel bag and a box of chocolates with a white flower on top." She must have seen the confusion on her listeners' faces, because she hastened to explain. "We had previously joked about adequate gifts for valentine's and I had, in jest, suggested that chocolates were better than forgetting about it. Also, in Hawaii a flower behind the left ear of a woman means she is taken."

Delario raised an eyebrow. Lieutenant Rollins was certainly not stupid, subtly – not – hinting at their relationship discouraged the thought of assault.

"He had come by early, I still had a few hours to kill before having to depart and I was just finishing up my packing. He probably did this on purpose as he came to inform me that he had handed in a request to do his reserve drill on the Enterprise, with me." She swallowed; just thinking about it made her heart beat faster. "One thing led to another and we... I had noticed a few nasty looking scrapes and bruises on his face, which came from a traffic accident. He told me he was fine, but something was clearly different. He was very... vigorous, and I matched him every step of the way. That's how _we_ acquired a number of injuries about which you have heard from the statement of several witnesses."

She looked straight at the judge then, setting her shoulders as if bracing herself.

"That's all there is to it, sir."

Delario looked her over, the confident way she held herself, the stubborn set of her jaw, the anger in the tightness of her shoulders; none of these things indicated a lie in his experience, whether out of fear of prosecution by the law or retribution by an abusive boyfriend. He nodded to the Lieutenant once, and dismissed her telling her to send in the Commander as she left. When McGarrett had rejoined them, he turned his attention on him.

"We just heard Lieutenant Rollins. Would you like to say something on the matter, Commander?"

McGarrett squared his jaw in the same way that Rollins had. It would be endearing if it wasn't been so annoying.

"All I have to say on the matter is meant for Lieutenant Rollins, sir."

Delario raised an eyebrow, trapped halfway between respect for the man and wanting to shake him.

"That settles it then," was all he said, turning to Commander Vucovik. "There doesn't seem to be any ground to pursue this charge further, Commander. I suggest you steer clear of it."

"Yes, sir," he replied grudgingly.

They returned to the improvised courtroom with Vucovik seething and Lou gloating. Steve wasn't quite sure what to make of either of that, though he was glad that the rape charges were apparently out of the way. The judge's nonetheless grave expression did little to quieten the tiny worried voice in his head, though. Everyone took their positions again, and Steve hesitated to sit down in order to cast a quick glance at Catherine. She had sat back down between her friends and Mick. His SEAL brother had informed him that he had been summoned to give a statement that day, while the rest of their team were in the middle of their drills and couldn't attend this session.

"The prosecution calls Lieutenant Laura Higgins to the stand," Vucovik spoke up, catching Steve's attention before he could sit down. Another one of Catherine's girl-friends. The SEAL wondered if it was part of the strategy to make some kind of victim out of Catherine; making all of her friends give unfavorable statements about him. He caught Laura's eye as she passed him, barely hearing the judge's instruction for him to sit down already if it weren't for his lawyer's insistent tug on his sleeve. Laura looked uncomfortable. She cast him an apologetic glance, apparently aware of what was going to be brought to light in this interrogation. She assured him quietly that she was on their team by giving his arm a not so discreet squeeze, well in sight of Judge Delario, before she took her seat and introduced herself to the court.

"When did you first meet the Commander, Lieutenant Higgins?", Vucovik wanted to know.

"During his TAD in Intelligence, sir."

"So, about the same time as Lieutenant Rollins then?"

"Yes, sir."

"In fact, you were present when Lieutenant Rollins met Commander McGarrett. You and Lieutenants Adams and Sanders. What was your impression of their relationship?"

"They worked well together, sir," she replied casually. "They made an excellent team. Commander McGarrett wasn't the first SEAL assigned to Intelligence due to an injury, but he was the first who made an effort to actually become part of the team. Other SEALs typically looked down their noses at us, considering their work more important because it's directly in the line of fire. McGarrett, on the other hand, actively socialized with us and we became fast friends."

"Did his friendship with Lieutenant Rollins stand out in any way?"

Laura bit her lip.

"They would spend a lot of time together, either with us or his SEAL team, and while McGarrett introduced us to his comrades and they were nice and all, there was always a feeling of distinction; we were friends, while Lieutenant Rollins was a part of them."

"Was there ever any inappropriate behavior between the two of them?"

She tried to glance at Steve and Catherine, but Vucovik had maneuvered himself into her line of sight during his questioning. Laura had known that this question would come, and she as fully aware of the expected response. The JAG officer had questioned her at length about a certain evening out they all had together during McGarrett's time with their group.

"Isn't it true," Vucovik continued when she would stare at her shoes instead of answering, "that there was an incident at a local bar that involved Lieutenant Rollins and Commander McGarrett to which you bore witness to?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Lieutenant? What happened?"

Laura gulped and cleared her throat before answering.

"We had gone celebrating a... uhm, successful day at work. We had had a major breakthrough in our operation that had wrapped it up. We spent hours at a local bar, playing darts or pool, but mostly drinking and laughing. We were quite loud. The women got some catcalls or comments about our place in the kitchen. We were used to that, but some of the other patrons were too far gone to take no for an answer. One of them molested Lieutenant Rollins and me on the way to the ladies' room. When the men heard the commotion and joined us, an argument broke out. There was some shoving and manhandling done. Commander McGarrett was among them. They were very vocative in our defense. The owner eventually kicked the unruly customer out. We thought that was it." She paused, eyes cast downward, as she remembered what happened when they left.

"But it wasn't, was it?"

"No, sir. The man had waited outside the bar, in the darkened back yard. When Lieutenant Rollins and I came out, the others had already left. Commander McGarrett had insisted to stay with us to walk us home. I was a few feet ahead of them; I don't quite recall why. We were a bit... out of it ourselves. Suddenly, I heard a muffled scream. When I turned around, the guy from earlier that hauled Lieutenant Rollins onto the ground and was pulling at her clothes and kissing her."

"Commander Vucovik, if this ends with the defendant coming to Lieutenant Rollins' rescue, I don't see how that will help your case," Delario commented dryly when Laura paused to take a breath.

"That wasn't necessary, sir," she answered instead of the lawyer, then blushed when she realized she may have spoken out of turn. As everyone's attention was on her anyway, she continued, though. "By the time either Commander McGarrett or I reacted, Lieutenant Rollins had successfully freed herself of her assailant."

"Yet Commander McGarrett must have reacted, because according to the medical report of the responsible hospital, the man had severals fractured ribs and a broken jaw. Quite difficult injuries to accomplish from a position on the ground I imagine. The MP, who investigated the incident, chalked it up to defensive wounds, but I disagree. Lieutenant?"

Laura looked down again when Vucovik cleared the line of sight toward her friends. Now that she could, she couldn't look at them.

"The ribs are Lieutenant Rollins' doing when she removed him from her with understandable prejudice. When they both stood up, she was about to knock him out, but Commander McGarrett beat her to the punch. We didn't tell the MP that to avoid getting him into trouble."

She exchanged a look with her friend's lover, knowing just how much this had come back to bite him now.

"Why do you think he punched the man who attacked Lieutenant Rollins?"

"He was angry, we both were. He'd attacked our friend-"

"Friends – is that all they were?"

"Yes," she said quickly, too quickly, and the judge warned her that she had to tell the truth. "It is the truth. By that time it was clear that there could be more, that they cared more, but-"

"And what of afterward," Vucovik interrupted, making her seem less than credible to the ears of the spectators. Laura had allowed herself to get seized by panic of riding her friends into more trouble than they already had, and had thereby done just that. Her statement had sounded rushed, as if she had been desperate for people to believe her without seeming entirely truthful. "According to the statements in the incident report, you went to fetch the MP patrolling the surroundings, and when you came back with them..."

He prompted Laura with a look, holding up said report threateningly, ready to read from it the scene of they found upon their arrival.

"Commander McGarrett had an arm around Lieutenant Rollins and was holding her tightly."

"Her arms, likewise, enveloped his torso. Lieutenant Rollins had her face pressed to the Commander. They appeared agitated, flushed and guilty-looking," Commander Vucovik read on from the report. Laura winced at the description. That was what the MP had seen. She had seen more, but then, she had been in tune with their progression from the unsustainable just-friends status to something more without ever crossing the line for the sake of their respective careers. She had known that something must have happened, something that was said... or done that night in the few, short minutes she had been gone. She had never asked, never dared to even mention that night again out of respect for those stolen moments in the dark that were solely theirs. Her respect would come in handy now in the guise of plausible deniability. "A very intimate scene for two officers who are just friends, wouldn't you agree, Lieutenant?!"

She swallowed, but nodded. She could do little else.

"Please let the record show that the witness has demonstrated her consent through non-verbal language via a nod of the head," Vucovik stated calmly. "Your witness."

Lou stood up.

"What was Lieutenant Rollins' state of mind after the assault like, Lieutenant Higgins?"

"Is the Lieutenant a mind reader, your honor?"

"Anyone can judge someone's basic mood by outward signs like pacing, ranting, twitching. That's why we have collocations such as 'to twitch nervously' and others."

"I'll allow it. Please answer the question, Lieutenant," the judge instructed.

"She seemed shocked and outraged at first. Then," Laura paused, licking her lips. She knew how much Catherine hated to be considered weak, and that was exactly what people would make of her answer. She wondered were McGarrett's lawyer was going with this, whether the woman was trying to shift the blame onto her friend. By the thunderous expression on the Commander's face, he was thinking along the same line, and didn't like it much. He seemed close to voicing an objection himself when a marked look from his lawyer and the light touch of Catherine's hand on his shoulder made him stop. "Then she proceeded to have a bit of a break down. When I came back with the MP, she was crying heavily. It was strange; I'd never seen her cry before."

"She was crying, clearly distraught as Commander McGarrett held her. Commander Vucovik seems to think that this constitutes some form of public display of affection-"

"Is this your closing statement?", said JAG queried irritated.

"Could Commander McGarrett have been holding her for another reason instead?"

"Yes, for comfort, ma'am. At least that was my impression."

"If you had been there instead of the Commander, would you have hugged Lieutenant Rollins?"

"Yes, ma'am, without hesitation. She was crying. She needed someone."

"And if he hadn't attempted to comfort her, what would you have thought of the Commander? If he had just let her break down by herself?"

Laura paused, looking straight at Steve. A small smile formed on her face.

"That he was a right bastard, ma'am."

**End of chapter 5!**

**A/N:** Just as we thought Steve might be off the hook... oh well, that would be boring. I went (quite) a bit outside the regulations with the judge's private interview, I know, but I wanted to send a strong signal to answer Vucocik's vicious persecution.


	7. Chapter 6

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill?

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**Warning****s: - (or, the m-word and -concept if you're squeamish)  
**

**Chapter 6**

_(Ops center)_

The darkened room was always busy, always loud, but in the last few days,it had been particularly abound with whispers. The voices of her colleagues should be merely background noise to her unless she was at the receiving end of an order or had to communicate with someone for some other reason. These days, though, every voice sounded vicious, every utterance like a malicious whisper intended directly for her. Catherine couldn't concentrate on her work. The numbers and satellite imagery blurred before her eyes due to the lack of sleep of the recent days which in turn was due to the stress she was under. Everyone scrutinized her, even people who would normally have passed her by without a second look felt the need to study her with curious, invasive eyes. Sailors she had never met suddenly crossed her path daily to gawk at the novelty of her. Everyone on board seemed to want a piece of the scandal, and it was taking its toll on her emotionally. Catherine was continuously stressed out. She didn't sleep and barely ate. She knew she hadn't smiled in days, except to comfort Steve or one of their friends, make them believe that she was as strong as they knew her to be under a different kind of stress.

She wasn't sure if they believed it, but it didn't matter. She was used to putting up a front. The Navy was still a male-dominated environment. Any woman wanting to survive and strive here needed to perfect a mask of professionalism. Catherine had learned to relinquish much of her femininity, sometimes giving her individual identity up to the collective for seemingly endless months. It wasn't all bad; being part of that collective felt empowering most of the time. They were doing something good which none of them would have been capable of doing on their own, accomplished sheer impossible feats and strengthened one another. Now Catherine was at a loss. During her leave she had, as she had done so often before, allowed her innermost desires and wishes to reemerge. After it was up, she had reintegrated herself into the collective only for her peace to be rattled by the scandal, and had been shunned. Now the collective didn't feel empowering anymore. It was daunting. Downright oppressive. She and Steve were on the outside, and while he was mostly secure from social repercussions during his stay in the brig itself, she suddenly stood on the outside of the collective looking in.

Her mind and emotions were swirling as she looked at the same imagery on her computer for what felt like an eternity without actually seeing anything. Her eyes were open, yet no input seemed to reach the visual cortex of her brain. She couldn't connect the dots. The lines and colors displayed by her computer screen didn't make sense as she studied them. She wasn't even sure anymore what exactly she was looking at – was it a map, or the crayon drawing of Mick's young daughter Cara? She shook her head in an attempt to reassert herself. Taking stock of her surroundings, Catherine tried to determine her next step. She was useless to Intelligence this way, she needed to find a way to focus again. Any attempt to focus inevitably brought the voices back, though. She could hear them then, the hushed tones around her. Most of her colleagues were probably just working, but her hearing could be very selective under stress. They didn't take notice of work-relevant conversations when there were rumors and gossip about her being discussed simultaneously._If she liked it rough, she'd only have to come to my quarters some time. I'd show her a real man._ **Good man like the Commander ruined by that. Chicks should stay behind the oven.** Poor girl, what she must have gone through?! Catherine could hear it all. She wasn't sure what was worse, the contempt or the pity. She could feel the not so subtle glances of her colleagues resting on her back or worm themselves down her seated form as if they scorched her. Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder and a mug of coffee was placed next to her hand on the work surface. She blinked and looked up at Trish.

"You look like you need a pick me up," Catherine was informed with a note of sarcasm.

"Gee, thanks. Every girl wants to hear she looks like shit."

The women shared a grin, before Trish leaned over Catherine's chair to take a look at the screen.

"So, what have we here? Seems like pictures from mountain regions?", she inquired slowly. Catherine blinked and took a deep swallow of coffee. It didn't make her feel better, but at least it was hot and maybe the caffeine would help keep her focused for the rest of her working hours. The Navy Lieutenant cleared her throat, trying to rid herself of the lump in it that had suddenly formed. She had to wipe at her eyes, too. Support in covering up her inability to do her work properly under the current conditions was not something she would have ever asked off one of her friends, and it meant the world to her that Trish was willing to take the time to help hr out of her pit.

"Yeah, uh... I think they're f-from," she began, taking a quick glance at the information, "the Hindu Kush. Yeah, the border region."

"Hmm, there doesn't seem to be much of anything to indicate activity."

"And yet, the pictures were taken for a reason."

Trish looked more closely at a spot she had been examining for a while when she had begun spacing in and out of focus. She selected a different picture showing the same part of the mountain range. "See, this is what doesn't convince me. It seems empty, but there are these spots that move around. Barely darker than the surrounding area, it makes me wonder."

"It could just be a refugee track," Catherine reminded her.

"Yeah, but... if I were a refugee, I'd pick a different route out of the country than climbing a mountain range."

"Me too, but those people know the mountains, they live with them. It might be no more difficult for them to cross the mountains than to try and avoid them. I guess there's no way to tell for sure, except to send a team in but I hate sending our people in without definitive Intel. You know what I mean?"

Trish nodded.

"Well, you could show Commander Fenn and see what he thinks of it."

Before Catherine could answer, a new voice spoke up.

"What I think of you two ladies chatting at work?" They turned to meet Commander Fenn's stern face. Catherine immediately got up in the presence of her superior, and the room grew quiet as they stood at attention. "You bunk together; keep your personal time confined to your quarters."

"Yes, sir... I mean no, sir, we weren't talking about private topics, we were discussing the satellite imagery," Trish responded with a wave at the screen. Fenn looked between her, the screen and Catherine a couple of times, before his gaze fell disapprovingly onto the latter.

"This imagery does not fall within your responsibility, Lieutenant Sanders, and if Lieutenant Rollins can't handle her own duties, clearly she is out of place in an institution as professional and prestigious as the United States Navy."

Trish looked shell-shocked by the diminutive statement, and Catherine fought town hot tears threatening to come to her eyes. Her posture became stiffer as she reigned herself in before she said or did something she'd regret. The Captain's reprimand had been more than justified and, to a degree, so was this one, but Commander Fenn made it sound as if she had never been able to hold her own in the Ops center, as if she hadn't made valuable contributions to the Navy's efforts in the war on terrorism so far and never would. Perhaps in her irritable state of mind the comment got blown out of proportion, but she now had the distinct feeling that the commander didn't want her there. Maybe he wanted a men's Navy, or maybe he just didn't like her personally, but his behavior clearly indicated the contemptuousness with which he saw her.

"Yes, sir," she bit out in the most civil tone she could manage – her voice was somewhere between outrage and desperation. He hovered by her for a time, looking over her shoulder with a hand on the back of her chair. Catherine could literally feel the heat that came of his hand creep along her skin. The tickling feeling Steve's warmth gave her whenever he was teasing hear by being so close without actually touching her was comfortable and soothing; this was unwelcome. It made her feel cold instead of wamrth, made her want to squirm, but she was in enough trouble without provoking further reprimands out of her CO. Therefore, Catherine squared her shoulders and endured it until he eventually left her to her won devices and she felt like she could breathe again. She only wished the Article 32 hearing would take up again earlier, so that she could be there instead of here. At least their she could concentrate on Steve and ignore all the pitying or condemning glances. At least there nobody expects her to look happy with her lot at the moment, or asked her more than she could give, that is to keep it together as best as she could. After Laura's statement, Vucovik had interviewed a number of sailors who had seen her leave for shore leave, giving report of how she leaped into Steve's arms and kissed him like it was a huge scandal. They had made it sound as if they'd started making out and tearing at each others clothes right there on the tarmac instead of describing the peck of lips for what it was, a welcome home greeting. If it weren't for Commander Lou, Judge Delario would probably be left to wonder why there weren't any arrests for public indecency on their records. Then there had been the statement of that bulky guy from their flight to Udeid, who delighted in retelling how Steve's SEAL brothers perpetuated their bending of the regs by harassing him out of his seats so she should sleep leaned against a familiar shoulder. Fortunately, Delario stopped him when he began to suggest that her relationship with all of them was less than professional. She was grateful for small wonders as Mick was supposed to give his statement that day, and they didn't need anyone wondering if she had seen him naked.

Catherine made it through her shift with gritted teeth but without further incident. The tension in her jaw made her wonder if she would be able to separate her mandibles enough to talk as she picked up the carrier's phone. Mick was elsewhere being prepped for the counter interrogation by Lou, but it turned out that she didn't need him to get her turn on the phone. Once the marine read the 'fuck off' sign on her forehead, he quickly relinquished the receiver and made for his quarters. Catherine was so angry, she had to dial Danny's number a few times before she got it right.

"Williams," came the sleepy reply after the sixth ring. The dark-haired woman had been ready to murder Danny for not answering immediately, but now she wanted to kick herself. She hadn't even considered what time it was in Hawaii.

"Sorry, Danny, I forgot about the time difference."

"No problem." He sounded very awake now. "How's it going? Is our boy okay?"

Catherine sighed.

"Steve's holding up okay, and I'm not sure how it's going. So far Commander Lou – that's Steve defense attorney – has found an answer to almost everything, creating doubt. The judge asked me directly about the purported rape yesterday."

"And?"

"I told him the truth. Not sure what happened afterward, but Vucovik hasn't asked anyone another question about my bruises, so I'll take that as a win."

"That's good, right? It means he believes you." Danny sounded a bit more up-beat now than during their previous conversation.

"I sure hope so," she responded tiredly.

"Maybe I should ask you how you are holding up?", Danny said after a brief pause. "I'm sorry it didn't cross my mind before, but this must take a toll on you, too."

"It's okay, Danny. I'm more worried about Steve, too."

"Let Steve worry about himself for a minute. What's going on with you?", Danny asked, genuinely concerned. She supposed that he could hear the weariness in her voice, and wondered if she could chalk it up to the poor quality of their connection.

"I...I'll live. I won't lie to you, it's tough but I can manage – as long as Steve makes it out of this... The worst thing, I think, is seeing him in that tiny, three square feet cell. It's like he's already been found guilty."

Danny made a noise of agreement.

"I'm also glad he's in there. He can't hear what some people are saying about him in there," she admitted.

"Or about you," the detective completed her statement. "Oh, Catherine...I'm so sorry. Wish I could help."

"Thanks. You are helping; you believe us."

"Always," she hears him answer without hesitation, and this time she's fighting tears for an entirely different reason. She wants to let go, to break down and pour her heart out to him, knowing he'd listen and offer what comfort he could. It wasn't the time, though. She had to be strong, for both herself and for Steve. For Danny, too. He needed her to be confident in his partner's triumph over this blasted situation. She tucked the feelings away, reserved the tears for a later date. Next time she was on O'ahu, Danny would get the best pineapple-free pizza she could find on the island – to go with all the sobbing and bitching from her.

"How are things with you and Five-0?"

"As well as can be expected. Denning is being a bureaucratic bastard with a stick up his... over this. Kono, Chin, Max, Lukela and I aren't happy, but we're holding down the fort. For a moment I thought Kamekona was gonna cry when I told him... He's a big baby," Danny concluded, but the fondness in his voice took the sting out of them. "On the upside, crime's down. With no Rambo to shoot at, the criminals have decided to take a break, thank my lucky stars- was that a laugh? That was a laugh, I made you laugh. Could you tell SuperSEAL before he comes to mangle me for making you cry."

She had indeed chuckled a little, and now it was growing into a little laugh as Danny continued his playful rant. She was delighted by the way he seemed to enjoy her mirth, even if she was still a pale shadow of her normal self.

"Seriously, though, Kawika stepped up when he heard. Makes sure his people don't cause disturbances by being overeager. That apparently discourages others as well. So, in sum, we're good."

"Steve will be happy to hear it," Catherine confirmed. "Listen, I have to go. The hearing will start again in a few minutes. I'll keep you posted."

"Thanks and, Catherine, don't let it get to you too much, okay. You're stronger than that shitface Vucovnik, Vucovix, whats-his-name. Don't let him get into your head."

She nodded, then gave a quiet 'yes' when she realized he couldn't see her.

5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0-5-0

_(Conference Room)_

"I would like to call Lieutenant j. g. Mick Storm to the stand," Vucovik announced. Steve saw his friend get up with a solemn expression on his face. Whatever Vucovik had discussed with his brother didn't bode well for him. He watched his friend take his position on the stand and swear his oath. "Lieutenant Storm, please state your relation with the defendant for the court."

"While on active duty, Commander McGarrett was my team leader."

"You saw him outside work?"

"Yes, sir." Minimalistic answers, good.

"You know him well, then. Would you say you're friends?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Do you know Lieutenant Rollins as well, Lieutenant?"

"I do."

Vucovik sighed exasperated with having to pull the answers out of his witness, and turned to the court. "Permission to treat Lieutenant Storm as a hostile witness, your honor?"

"Granted," was all Delario said as he scribbled something on his papers.

"Do you know her well?"

"She's like a sister to me, sir," Storm ground out as he cast glances between Vucovik and the judge and, in light of the previous day, that took on a whole new meaning. Then his focus went to the side of the defendant.

"What can you tell us about hers and the Commander's relationship?"

"It is consensual if that's what you're asking. It's a relationship between equals," he replied, then wanted to bite his tongue for the opening he had just handed the other man.

"But they are not equals, are they? McGarrett is, technically, Lieutenant Rollins' superior."

"They don't work together."

"They did once."

"They weren't in a relationship then."

The rest of the attendants watched the interrogation as if it were a tennis match in which each contestant parried the other's blow and tried to sent it outside the other's reach to score a point. So far the men seemed evenly matched. Mick's eyes remained on the defendant's side even as his face stayed impassive under the duress of the questions.

"Your honor, I would appreciate the witness' full attention," Vucovik complained, but before Delario could offer an answer, Mick had already spoken.

"I assure you that my ears function completely independently of my eyes, sir." Mick and Steve shared a smile, but the SEAL could see his friend's lawyer shake her head minutely.

"Lieutenant!", the judge admonished.

"Sorry, sir," he said, looking up at the judge. "I just can't believe that this is even happening."

"Well, you better come to terms with it, son, and fast. Another such utterance and I'll hold you in contempt."

"Yes, your honor."

"Answer the counselor's question now, Lieutenant Storm."

"Perhaps if the counselor could be a bit more specific as to what aspect of their relationship he would like an answer to, sir. I'm a bit confused as to what is expected of me," Mick replied diplomatically, making the judge's attention shift back to the grumpy lawyer.

"Well, counselor, would you like to specify the question?", he relayed the question with a motion of the hand.

Vucovik nodded.

"I would like to know about the rumors during their time working together in Coronado, 2002. They were believed to be in an inappropriate relationship; rumors even reached Coronado base captain, one Admiral James Nelson, who included this in his report. What is your take on their accuracy?"

Mick straightened involuntarily. He remembered those rumors. Vucovik had been unexpectedly diplomatic about formulating them. Some of them had been downright nasty. Steve had been injured during a mission and reassigned to Intelligence work for the duration of his physical and psychological recovery. He had bitched and moaned about being stuck at a desk until he realized that the pretty bird who had handed him his ass during a friendly paint ball match with a cunning trick would be his colleague for the foreseeable future. Then, of course, he had also found out whose daughter and sister she was, and had made an oath to his team that he would keep his distance. That lasted longer than any of them would have expected and yet, in a way, all of five seconds. Steve, obviously drawn to the beautiful woman, had been unable not to approach her, but they'd stayed just this side of friendship by some miracle. Mick remembered thinking that the two of them had essentially been lovers, only without the sex. A suspicion that arose when Steve had introduced Catherine to them, taken her out with them or gone out with her female friends regularly, and that had been confirmed when Steve started missing opportunities for nights on the town precisely twice a month. He didn't know any man who hovered around a girl like that during that time if he wasn't seriously interested.

"My take is that people think men and women can't just be friends – at least for a while. They were professional friends. They were certainly very close, close enough to tickle the fantasies of their peers and worry their superiors, but they didn't cross that line until after Commander McGarrett was removed from the Intelligence work he had been assigned to."

"They didn't cross that line? You seem very sure, considering that this report-" He went back to his desk and picked up a small folder. "-by Admiral Nelson contains an unofficial reprimand for consorting with a fellow officer on both their accounts."

Steve and Mick shared a look, the former man's eyes drawing away and his friend could see that he was lost in memories. Steve shut his eyes tightly to fight the on-storm of images that flooded his senses. He remembered clearly being called to the Admiral's office, just as he remembered that there were two men present besides him. While Admiral Nelson gave him his warning to keep things freaking professional and threatened him with all the things that could happen to him and his carrier if he insisted on his _'dalliance'_ with a subordinate officer, the other man had stood quietly by the window. He'd had his back turned to Steve as the SEAL had assured Nelson that his relationship with Catherine was friendly, even intimate but completely platonic. Nelson hadn't bought it if his low growl had been any indication. Steve had been sure to receive an official reprimand, maybe even be made to face a hearing when the stranger at the window had turned and dissuaded Nelson from doing more than give an unofficial reprimand and a sound warning. Nelson had then proceeded to leave Steve alone with the other man. Being able to take in the front of the other man's uniform for the first time, he'd realized that he was facing another Admiral and a fellow SEAL. It had taken him to read _Rollins_ on the name tag to make his gut clench.

"Unofficial, because he could never prove it, and it was therefore essentially void. They didn't cross the line."

"Why, specifically, did they receive this unofficial reprimand?"

"Objection; hearsay," Lou exclaimed as she stood up in protest.

"The report also states that Lieutenant Storm had been interviewed discretely on the matter, implying that he knows what it was about, you honor. Also, considering what a close-knit unit SEAL teams form, I'm sure that McGarrett would have discussed it with them."

"Your honor-", Lou ground out, but was stopped from further objection by Delario's raised hand.

"I'll allow the question, but you're treading on thin ice, Commander. Bring this line of questioning home soon."

"Yes, your honor." The lawyer turned back toward Mick with an expectantly raised eyebrow. "Well?"

Mick sighed, casting Steve and Catherine an apologetic glance.

"The suspicion of an illicit affair was based predominantly on how much time McGarrett and Rollins spent alone together, specifically at her apartment."

"Your honor, if Lieutenant Storm wasn't present at these meetings, how could he know they were alone?", Lou tried again.

Vucovik got a nod from the judge to prove his point, and questioned Mick further.

"Did Lieutenant Rollins share this apartment with anyone, to your knowledge as her... brother, as you put it..."

"No, sir," he replied reluctantly.

"It stands to reason to assume they were alone then, your honor."

"I agree. Continue."

"No further questions. Your witness."

Vucovik gave Lou a smirk she answered with a smile of her own to throw him off. It worked. The lawyer suddenly didn't seem so sure of himself as he sat down to watch his colleague at work.

"I have no questions at this time, your honor, but I reserve the right to interview the witness again," she informed the court to another round of whispers. The room had been abound with noise when their alone time in her apartment had been revealed. Now the voices around them grew louder, which had Catherine lean forward and place a hand on Steve's shoulder. The fact that Commander Lou didn't even want to interview Mick further was certainly not a good sign. Catherine's hand gripped his shoulder tightly, and he could feel her breath waft over his neck and cheek. He only just resisted the urge to clasp her hand in his in order not to give the wrong impression. He could imagine how ramrod straight she must have been during the session so far, and this revelation certainly wasn't helping in making their case. He could only imagine what else she must be going through. After the Captain's rebuff, she had not come to the brig to share a meal again and though he missed her terribly, he understood why. He knew enough about a carrier's rumor mill to know that she was taking the brunt of it, and he knew her well enough to know she was trying to protect him from that. He was only confronted with what the guards thought of him, and then some hostile glances and not so subtle whispers en route to and during the hearing. Catherine, however, had to live and work with these people every day. Even with the help of their friends, this could not be an easy time for her. Anger began to boil inside of him as he cast a glance at his lawyer, wondering which side she was on. Mick's statement made it sound like there had been more going on, the implication had been obvious. A fact that could have easily been rectified by asking a single question, yet Lou seemed totally uninterested in restoring the truth instead of letting everybody fantasize about them. Steve couldn't understand why she'd leave them hanging like that and, by the looks of him, neither could Mick. He remained seated in the chair next to the judge's desk as if waiting for further inquire, until Delario actively ordered him to get up. Blinking twice, the SEAL did so, sending Steve and Catherine a helpless shrug. Obviously, when he had been prepped for counter-interrogation by Lou, this had not been part of the plan. Barely suppressing a growl, Steve was about to ask for a few minutes to chew his counsel out when Lou requested permission to present a witness herself. When both the judge and Vucovik raised inquisitive eyebrows at her, she clarified.

"I think we've been beating around the bush long enough, your honor. It's time we got to the facts as can be attested to by the only people who know them all. I would therefore like to hear Lieutenant Rollins directly, sir."

Steve was out of his chair in a heartbeat to protest. Lou hissed at him to sit back down, and Delario barked the same order a second later. The SEAL didn't have to look behind himself to know that Catherine, too, had gotten up. Equal parts anger and desperation gripped him. They had had this discussion before but he had honestly hoped to avoid this point. Up until now, that is, and the fact that his own lawyer was proposing something she knew he was contrary to, felt like a stab in the back. It felt like she was offering up Catherine like a sacrificial lamb. Steve supposed he should have known this. Loud was his lawyer, not Catherine's. Her only duty was to get him off the hook, and she didn't understand that it meant nothing, nothing if Catherine had to pay the price.

"I'll do it in her stead, your honor. I'll testify," he heard himself say, seizing on what tiny opportunity he had to spare her this.

"No, you're not," Lou replied immediately.

"I believe that's my decision."

"Don't I get a say?", Catherine asked him challengingly. He turned to her with a pleading look, imploring her to let him do this for her. It was bad enough that she took the burnt of the harassment. This burden he could take from her if only she'd let him. The determination in her eyes let his plea fall short. She went on in a quieter voice just for him. "I want to do this, Steve. I- I can do this."

He knew she was asking him not to worry.

"Too late," he murmured back to her unspoken message. She gave him a sympathetic look, but quickly turned to face the court. She didn't cast a glance at Vucovik or Lou as she made her way to the chair with measured steps. She swore her oath and stated her personal details for the record, all the while her eyes were fixated on him. Then Commander Lou moved forward to begin her questioning as she was most definitely a witness for the defense council.

"You and the Commander have been seeing each other for a long time now?"

"About eight years, most of that time on and off because we were typically stationed across the world from each other."

"Did the Navy in the form of any official ever express any malcontent with your relationship?"

"We were under investigation during the time we worked together in Intelligence, but nothing came from it except an unofficial warning to respect the line of professionalism. Our relationship began later when Commander McGarrett was back with the SEALs."

Lou nodded and went to pick up two folders from her desk. She held it up, doing a little swirl so everybody got a good look at it and see that they were essentially empty.

"I made an inquiry to establish any complaint lodged against your persons and this is what came back. The only piece of paperwork in these folders is about the aforementioned unofficial inquiry. Since then, there's not been a single complaint about any interference with your work despite the fact that you acted as Commander McGarrett's liaison a couple of times."

"Your honor, does the defense council have a question for the witness?", Vucovik spoke up scathingly.

"I do, your honor. Have you ever had any complaints about the Commander's behavior?"

Catherine flushed.

"No."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Do you think him even capable of sexual assault?"

"No."

"Discussing your relationship with the Commander, I came to know that you separated for a time. What happened?"

"We- well, Commander McGarrett broke it off. He said he felt that our relationship had run its course, but, really, he was just running away from his feelings for me because he couldn't handle them. He took the coward's way out," she told the court, but her eyes were fixated on Steve. He wouldn't meet her gaze, yet the crestfallen, guilty expression on his face spoke volumes.

"Objection, your honor-"

"Commander McGarrett could testify to the truth of the Lieutenant's assertion if you like, your honor," Commander Lou cut him off. Captain Delario raised a calming hand.

"Very well, I'll allow it but I'm beginning to wonder about the relevance of this line of questioning, counselor,"

"I'll get straight to the point, your honor. It pertains to the situation in which Commander McGarrett was arrested. He was found in the fantail with you, on his knees. Why was he in that position, Lieutenant Rollins – or would my esteemed colleague prefer to ask this question?"

She looked straight at Steve then, and he had never seen that look in her eyes. It was filled with warmth, understanding, hope, mirth and something he couldn't help but pray was the same deep love he felt for her. Even under fire and vulnerable, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

"The idiot was trying to tell me that he loves me," she said, mirth and exasperation coloring her voice as Steve's mouth flew open. He completely missed the pat on his back he received from Mick, and the whispered "Finally!" that accompanied it in favor of staring at his incredible woman, who turned her attention back to Vucovik. "He's been trying to tell me for a while now, but something keeps coming up to interrupt us." Those who didn't know Catherine might have missed the light disapproval in her tone, but the lawyer obviously caught up on it judging by his flustered expression. "The fantail is certainly not the best place for that, but I guess that's why he couldn't get it out this time either."

"Ah... uhm, objection, your honor," Vucovik stammered. "Lieutenant Rollins is not a mind reader. She cannot have known what Commander McGarrett had wanted to say or do in the aforementioned situation or what may have prevented him."

"I'll allow the answer," Delario deadpanned as Lou opened her mouth to offer Steve's own testimony again, completely ignoring Catherine's chosen vocabulary, too.

"Your witness," Lou told her adversary with a smirk.

Vucovik stepped into her line of sight, but it didn't faze her. She held his gaze evenly.

"What was your relationship with Commander McGarrett while you worked with him in Coronado?"

"We were friends and colleagues, sir."

"That's all?"

"We were close, sir, but people got the wrong impression. As is easy to do. He is my best friend, sir, and the Navy is our life. We would never risk our careers like that." She sounded confident, almost hostile to the implication of lacking professional distance.

Vucovik only snorted.

"What about now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Commander McGarrett is a civilian now, yet I have been reliably informed that you contacted the DoD on his behalf... I've also checked your recent work history and it seems you have filed several suspicious black ops requests."

Catherine swallowed.

"I can explain." She didn't sound so confident.

"I'm sure."

"And the prosecution can drop the running commentary," Delario admonished the young lawyer. Vucovik inclined his head to indicate his apology and acceptance of the directive. "Lieutenant Rollins? What are those requests about?"

Catherine straightened a little more in her seat if that was possible.

"When a case is particularly trying... or...threatening the lives of innocent people, sometimes St- Commander McGarrett will give me a call and ask for a favor to... help him solve it." She exchanged a glance with Steve. He looked so guilty and apologetic that it damn near tore her heart out. He was shaking his head almost imperceptibly, indicating that he had never meant for her to get caught in the crossfire because of his favors. He had never thought it would develop like this, putting her and her career in harm's way and vowed that he would never ask her for another favor again if, by some miracle, they made it out of this mess with their jobs still theirs.

"You misappropriated military equipment to aid a civilian task force?", Delario asked, shocked. He sounded outraged and Catherine wanted to shrink back from his obvious anger, but instead she helf firm.

"I-" Her gaze flitted to Captain Swanson. She didn't want to get Fenn in trouble, especially with how precarious their working relationship was at the moment, but the Captain nodded. She realized for the first time that he must have known about it all along. Delario noticed the exchanged and gave a grunt.

"What is it, Lieutenant. Speak."

"I cleared it with my CO, Commander Fenn. He and Commander McGarrett go way back, so he cuts him some slack."

Astonished silence reigned in the room, except for the figure of a man stomping from his seat in one of the back rows to the exit, slamming the hatchet close. She had not known that Fenn was in the room and cursed herself. He must know that if she had had any other choice, she would have left him out of it, surely. Catherine wanted to let loose a yell of frustration, stomp her feet on the ground like a little girl and punch something angrily, but all she could do was let out a sigh. She raised her eyes to the judge and noticed that he seemed to have more questions, but it was Vocuvovik who spoke up first.

"So you're trampling Navy regulations with your feet in order to help the defendant catch his thieves and beggars, and yet we are to believe that there was nothing going on with you two during those cozy hours in your apartment, that your relationship had nothing to do with your out-of-the-blue breakdown in the dirty alley behind a bar?! And what about the way we found you on this ship, with the commander kneeling before you in the fan tail, flushed and panting? All from one measly confession that didn't even make it past the Commander's lips?!" His voice rose more and more the longer he spoke, until it had become an incredulous, angry shout. He'd moved steadily closer to her as well until he was right in her face, and she could make out Commander Lou's protests on his invading Catherine's space in the background but the world had shrunk down to this face-off between the irritating lawyer and herself.

"I'll answer, you honor," she informed the court.

"No, don't," Lou called out from her position at the desk opposite to her chair.

"In that case, I have to inform you on your privilege to refuse to give evidence if you would incriminate yourself by your statement," Judge Delario told her at the same time.

She glanced at Steve. A quick, serious glance that he answered with an almost imperceptive nod. Their best laid plans of containing this had obviously gone awry even if Vucovik seemed to have waived the sexual assault charges. The infuriating JAG had dug deep into their past and found plenty of scrapes. He couldn't put them together without their cooperation, but denying that there was something would, at this point, be implausible. Their only option was to come clean about their towering the line. Vucovik had caught them in a lie regarding Steve's involvement in the mess behind the bar, and any offered denial that they had been more than towering the line would ring hollow even to them.

"Of course my breakdown had something to do with Commander McGarrett," she admitted, surprising everyone as she thinks back on what happened.

_(Flashback)_

_Catherine, Laura and Steve laughed as they strode across the veranda, around the building to get back to the main road. There was a swing in their steps that would normally be quite unbecoming for a group of Navy officers, but they were off duty and slightly inebriated, so the world could go to hell on that one. The night's previous grievances had been forgotten over several games of darts and at least as many beers. Steve and Catherine were walking beside each other, trailing a few feet behind Laura. Steve had insisted he walk them home at this hour of the night, as they were all a bit buzzed. Due to the fuzzy state of their mind, they weren't being completely professional. The women erupted into peals of laughter at a particularly lewd comment about the firmness of his... cheeks, and their firm opinion that he should walk ahead of them so they wouldn't see his blush. The effort made them breathless, and they had to stop in their tracks completely to catch some much needed oxygen. That's when it happened._

_Mid-laughter, Catherine was yanked away from Steve roughly. The force of the pull made the woman yelp from the sting, though Catherine's surprised bark soon turned into a true cry of pain when she felt herself be pushed onto the ground with such force that she slid a few inches across the concrete. She would certainly feel her back come tomorrow. Before she could react, the weight of another man's body pressed down on her and the stench of alcohol and cigarettes wafted across her face. Then a mouth sealed itself shut over hers, and kicked her into action. She could just imagine who the man was that was assaulting her. He had seemed rather keen to hit third base in the crowded bar as well and had refused to take no for an answer until the owner had had him thrown out. She bit the man's lip harsh enough to draw blood, struck his ribs, throat and nose with all the strength she could muster with what possibility for arm movement she had under him and locked her right leg around the front of his body. Then she secured the hands currently pushing her to the ground and forced him off her while he was still startled from her first set of rapid blows. She got him off her with a roar. She got up quickly, readying herself to fight by pulling her fist back._

_The man never made it to a second try. As soon as he had straightened himself, an unfriendly pull turned him towards Steve's fist as it sought to connect with his jaw. The scumbag was knocked over by the SEAL's punch, fell to the floor and remained limp. Both Steve and Catherine were heaving as they exchanged looks over his body, a silent agreement passing between them. Considering the nasty rumors on the base, they knew it would be better if Catherine took full responsibility for whatever injuries the bastard had acquired. They sent a glance at Laura to make sure she was on the same page as them, and received a nod of confirmation before she scuttled off to get military police so they could sort this out. Catherine's chest heaved, not only from any exertion but from the panic that had momentarily gripped her when she had felt herself be pressed down, from when he had kissed her. She had felt his hands tug at her sleeves, ready to rip her shirt off her perhaps and had reacted instinctively. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand a few times as she glared down at the unconscious bastard. She shuddered to think what else he had planned._

_When she looked up again, Steve was right in front of her._

"_Are you okay? Cath? Did he hurt you?", he asked in quick succession, hands coming up to splay against her cheeks. His heat burned against her skin. He was so close, as close as she had ever dared to imagine. "Sorry. What a stupid question! Where are you hurt? Do you need anything? Anything, Cath, just tell me!"_

_She could see it then, in his eyes, that he meant every word. Anything she needed, he would give her in that moment if only to make her feel better. She wanted to tell him that the only thing she needed was him, and she wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all because he was the one thing that she couldn't have. She remained silent for both their sakes, but he must have read it in her eyes anyway because a moment later his open mouth pushed against her lips. Or maybe it had been her that pulled him in. Whatever the case, they were taken by a frenzy, pushing and pulling at each other as they maneuvered themselves against the back wall of the bar. Her lips parted beneath his to find his tongue ready to slip in. It danced with hers, coaxing, prodding, challenging, as his lean frame pressed into her curvaceous body. One hand in her hair, the other tracing a line of flaming heat down her side to rest on her hip. Her own hands did not remain idle either, but slipped beneath his shirt to caress his chest pulling it up with them as they explored. Their breaths mingled, their hums and moans the tune of a symphony. Catherine lost the connection to the ground underneath her feet when Steve pushed closer, lifting her. They continued kissing until air became a necessity they could no longer ignore. Quiet pants filled the night until they had regained enough consciousness to open their eyes. Their gazes locked..._

_...and they scrambled apart in a haste. Steve's hand swiped angrily through his hair while Catherine desperately tried to fixed the mussed up strands his caresses had left behind. She could feel that her lips were swollen, and couldn't resist a glance at his mouth to find them invitingly red and swollen, too. She tried to shake the thoughts, but what they had done had already been ingrained into her mind. Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden. They had made all the gossip, all the rumors come true. They had given credit to all the nasty rumor-mongers, and they'd have to look them in the eye every day to boot. They had broken Navy regs. She had worked so hard to make her way in the Navy, find her place where she was of use to her country and respected by her colleagues, and now she had put it all at risk. She looked at Steve; he was just as distressed as she was. He, too, had worked hard for his career in the SEALs. Now that was on the line, too. If somebody had seen this, they could have just ruined their lives._

_The dam broke, and floods of tears trailed down her face as she looked at him. He was with her momentarily to envelop her in a tight hug. She half-heartedly tried to resist him at first, but he only pulled her in tighter. He murmured words of comfort into her hair, trying to calm her down while she sobbed into his shirt. She was not usually a crybaby, but something about this night was more than she could handle. It was a final straw in something like stress or unease that had been building up for months. She couldn't hold it in anymore, and she didn't care if he would think less of her tomorrow, she needed his embrace now, needed his comfort. If he thought less of her the next day, he could go to hell. Navy officer or not, she had a right to be a human being and have a good cry once in a while. She needed it now, which didn't mean that she would waste a lot of time on it. There were still some things to discuss before Laura got back with the MP._

"_I like you, Steve-"_

"_No kidding," he chuckled humorlessly. "I quite like you, too, Lieutenant."_

"_I mean it. You're my best friend, and I want... I want more, but... this can't ever happen again. We work together. I don't wanna lose my job. I wanted to join the Navy since I was a little girl. It was everything, all I thought of. The Navy is my life."_

"_I don't know about 'ever', but you're right about the rest. This – whatever this is – has to take a back seat until I leave. After that, all bets are off." He let her go slightly to get a good look at her face and make sure he had her full attention. She was still crying silently, but her chocolate eyes were clear and attentive as they stared back at him. "I'm coming after you." _

_The intensity in his voice made her shiver._

"_Who says I won't come after you," she tried to dissolve some of the remaining tension between them with a jab of humor._

"_I'd like that." His voice was serious, essentially destroying her effort to lighten the mood._

_She presses her face into his shirt again._

"_I hate this," she declared. "You're right here, and I wish it was enough but I miss you already. Having a taste of... and then to go back to normal... ugh."_

"_Me too," he whispered, kissing her hair, one arm still around her form. Even as he looks up to direct the arriving MP to their perp, he didn't take his lips of her hair. It filled Catherine with new tears and an almost triumphant feeling at the same time. The base was buzzing with rumors anyway; let them talk about something that was actually true for once. It might get them off their made up fantasies of how they were screwing in the broom closet. _

She spoke passionately when she finally spoke again, even though she tried to remain as calm as possible. Agitation still crept into her voice here and there, anyway. "Work was frustratingly stagnating; we just couldn't find what we were looking for. By that time, our work space was abound with rumors and Admiral Nelson had begun his investigation into the relationship McGarrett and I shared. Lieutenant Higgins leaving us alone, even to get the MP, certainly didn't help matters any. I had been harassed and assaulted, and I was desperate enough to cover up the commander's involvement in the fight. And then Laura – Lieutenant Higgins – was gone, and he was so worried, he came close, hands on my face and... we kissed. I don't know how it happened, it shouldn't have. We were absolutely clear on that, but it happened anyway. Then we separated for air, and realization set in, and... you can't imagine the guilt. The Navy was everything to me, and I'd just... So, yeah, I broke down crying – not very dignified, but I honestly didn't know what else to do to handle the stress. I needed that cry."

"So, you admit-"

"It was the only time, but yes, and I never felt so guilty about something in my life," Catherine bulldozed over him. "As for why he was kneeling in front of me gaping like a fish when you found us... Have you any idea what it means to know what is coming, to get so close to confessing on so many occasions and then always being denied the possibility? There was always something, his work, my work, an injury or it just wasn't the right moment... You can't imagine how frustrating that is! Finally, in the fantail I thought we'd have a few precious moments to ourselves and I'd finally get to hear him say those words that he's been fighting to tell me – perhaps I got a bit more excited than was strictly warranted, and then you came through the hatch with the MP..."

Absolute silence reigned in the improvised court room. Then Delario turned to her with a stern look on his face. "You still failed to answer one point Commander Vucovik made. Was there any intimacy between you and Commander McGarrett during the times he stayed at your apartment, Lieutenant?"

Catherine raised her head proudly.

"Only emotional intimacy, sir. We watched movies, ate ice cream and talked. That's it. I wouldn't have been up for anything else anyway."

"How do you mean?"

Catherine exchanged another look with Steve, smirk firmly in place on both their faces, and she knew he was remembering the same thing. She looked back to the judge, though she hoped someone would take a picture of Vucovik as she explained this one. She wanted to see his face when his case began to disintegrate before his very eyes and due to questions that he had asked her no less.

_(Flashback)_

_The spoonful of yogurt paused on the way to her lips as a soft knock resounded from the door. Frowning, wondering who would disturb her at such a delicate moment, she dropped the spoon back into the bowl where it sank into the creamy white yogurt laced with honey and cereal. She put the TV on silent and got up just as another knock came from the door. This one was a bit stronger and it was followed by a soft, familiar voice calling for her. She gasped lightly as she heard his deep timbre wrap around her name. His voice always did things to her that were best left buried and forgotten about. She made her way to the door and opened it to find Steve smiling at her almost shyly. He held some kind of plastic cup in his hand and was dressed in civilian clothes, cargo pants, shirt and sneakers, looking all the more dashing for it. Biting her bottom lip she stepped aside to let him in. She was extremely conscious of the fact that she was only wearing a tank top and a pair of sweats, but if anyone saw him standing outside her door the rumors would only intensify. Steve, however, remained perfectly still on her threshold as he took her in with a darkening gaze. She had to clear her throat twice to make him snap out of it and come inside already. _

"_Oh, uhm... you... Laura said you want to stay in tonight..." It wasn't so much a question as a comment, but his voice still went up an octave or two in the time he spoke. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes of her form either and Catherine swallowed self-consciously knowing how obvious it was that she wasn't wearing a bra. He finally shook his head to clear his mind and dragged his eyes back to her face to see her skin painted in a pretty flush from her cheeks to her shoulders. He suddenly remembered what he was holding and extended the cup to her energetically. "Uhm, she said you didn't feel well, so I brought you some soup."_

_They both looked down at the plastic cup. Either Laura had been very vague, or he'd obviously misinterpreted her explanation quite a bit._

"_Though you don't look sick," Steve commented with a frown as he took her in. He lifted one hand to her forehead to find her a bit warmer than normal due to the flush, but he was sure that was from his appreciation of her attire. She always flushed when he paid her a compliment, verbal or otherwise. It was one of the things he liked about Catherine; she was tough as nails as well as feminine and delicate at the same time. His frown grew when he saw her look away with a guilty – no, an almost embarrassed expression. Her flush deepened in color and now Steve's curiosity and suspicion were piqued. He cocked his head to the side, wondering why she would have her friend make up an excuse for her. Plastering a false grin onto his face before he spoke to her again, he decided to investigate. "You know, if you're sick and tired of going out with us guys to drink and play dart, we could be persuaded to go bowling instead – or whatever you girls do when you're out amongst yourselves... as long as you don't want us to paint your nails or braid your hair..."_

"_It's not that, Steve. I'm not really into that myself and neither are Laura, Trish and the others. I'm just not up for it tonight, okay? That's all."_

_She sounded a bit defensive or evasive, Steve couldn't quite place it._

"_What's wrong? I know work is stressful and frustratingly slow at the moment, but... it's not too much, is it?" He knew firsthand how exhausting intelligence work could be and he wouldn't begrudge her needing a break. While field work was more dangerous, gathering all that data for months on end and then maybe never knowing if it was of any use could be equally maddening. "You're the smartest Intel operator I know and you've got me. Between you and me, we'll figure it out. We'll find something, Cath."_

_He heard the way her breath hitched. It always did when he called her that. He'd started with the nicknames almost immediately, it had just seemed natural. His SEAL Team would never let him live down the time he'd called her Kitten and they'd made it theirs almost immediately. He and whoever addressed her by it earned themselves a glare each time, but her eyes grew softer. She was getting used to it. He'd blamed her girl friends who referred to her as Cat and who had warned him off calling her Cathy unless brotherly affection was all he held for her. Trish had looked particularly smug when she'd informed him of that. There had been a lot of trial and error before he'd gotten to a nickname he liked, the one that got him this reaction every time he used it – and he used it as often as he could get away with it._

"_I-It's not that either. Steve, honestly, I'm fine. I just can't go out tonight or tomorrow."_

"_That's a very specific time frame," he grunted, not convinced._

"_It's a very specific problem." The way she stressed her words was obviously meant to be a clue of some kind, but he didn't quite understand what she was getting at. She looked at him in an exaggerated manner as if willing him to understand. Huffing in frustration she rolled her eyes and took the plastic cup from him. She went to set it down in the kitchen when a small beeping noise floated over to them from the other room. He heard something flowing, like water falling, then she reappeared with a hot water bottle in her hand and went to sit down on the couch again. "Look, I'm not up for a night out tonight, or tomorrow. Let's just leave it at that."_

_"Why is it a secret?" Now he was frustrated. Something in his head seemed to try to click, connecting the dots, but it just didn't manage to sink in._

_She cast him an annoyed look._

"_It's not a secret"._

"_Then why won't you tell me."_

_"Because you'll freak out. I'm just trying to protect your sensibilities."_

"_My sens- I'm a SEAL, Cath, I've slept wrapped around my comrades for warmth, in mud and dirt, under rain or in bitter cold. I don't have sensibilities."_

_She decided to test that statement._

"_I'm on my period." The world stopped when she threw that comment about the room so carelessly. She indicated the hot water bottle placed across her stomach. "I'm on my period and I always feel bloated and crappy the first two days, so I curl up on my couch, watch chick flicks and eat ice cream and chips – or I would if I had remembered to buy ice cream, so yogurt will have to do even if it's too healthy for this time of the month."_

_She gave his shell-shocked form a pointed look and he turned around and left the apartment without further comment. Catherine tried to scoff at the shut door, tried to tell herself that's what she wanted and expected and that, therefore, it didn't hurt that he reacted that way, but she could feel the tears stinging her eyes and sniffed. She picked up her bowl of yogurt again, really wishing it were ice cream right now, and went back to watching pointless TV programs. She couldn't concentrate on them, though, because her mind was swirling with all the emotional turmoil. It shouldn't matter. His reaction shouldn't matter despite her feelings for him. Feelings she knew he shared. That shouldn't matter either because nothing could come from it. They worked together, for Christ's sake. He was her superior. He was her friend. He was a devilishly handsome sailor and, damn him, she was falling fast and hard for the man. Crinkling her nose, she dropped the bowl onto her couch table harsher than she should have. Great, now his concern for her well-being had ruined her evening in as she couldn't even concentrate enough to let herself mindlessly watch some crappy TV._

_Another knock on her door made her get up with an angry growl. Ready to murder whoever else disturbed her quiet night, she yanked the door open only to be faced with Steve bearing more gifts. She didn't know how long he'd been gone, lost in her thoughts as she had been, but he'd certainly accomplished quite a bit. He held several borrowed DVD cases in one hand – amongst them The Notebook which made Catherine's heart melt – and two large containers of dark chocolate chip ice cream in the other. She may have cursed him a minute ago, but now she really wanted to kiss the man. Shaking her head, she pulled him inside._

"_Are you alright?", he asked before she could question him. "I thought about going to the pharmacy to pick up some pain meds, but I realized I don't know what women take in this situation, so... uh, I can go now if you tell me what to..."_

"_I'm not in pain. I just don't feel... well. It's hard to describe. I just feel... heavy and...full. Lethargic." She smiled sheepishly, not knowing how to make him understand something he could never experience himself. There was no learning by doing here. _

"_Well, okay then..." He looked relieved, some of the concern falling from his face. Her smile grew softer at seeing his worry for her. "Pick a movie, anything you want, Cath."_

_She picked The Notebook right out of his hand and settled back down onto her couch while he went to get spoons for the ice cream. The bowl of yogurt forgotten, she practically ripped the ice cream from his hands, making him chuckle at her antics. She huddled closer when he sat down beside her, handing her the hot water bottle that must have fallen onto the cushions when she'd gotten up in a huff. She placed it back across her stomach and folded her legs beneath her body. His arm went around her and, for the life of her, she couldn't bring herself to care about how utterly inappropriate this was as the movie started to flicker across the screen. _

"These nights happened on two consecutive days a month, sir. Precisely the first two days of my menstruation cycle when I felt too crappy to go out with everyone else."

That struck everyone silent, but Catherine wasn't done yet.

"I've written down the starting days of my period since I first began having them, your honor, so I can prove it. Though, that particular booklet is probably buried somewhere at my house on O'ahu... The first time we did have sex was the night after his last day in Intelligence. He had clocked out and we were celebrating with everyone else. Eventually, we separated from the rest and went to a tiny Italian place Steve had made reservations at to have a late dinner. They had a live band that we could hear from outside so we started to sway on the sidewalk. We intended to wait for midnight just to be on the safe side. We never made it inside. We were aware of what would happen the entire time, so the minute the hand of the clock struck twelve, Steve grabbed my hand and we went back to my place. Then we didn't see each other again for months, until we met by chance on a base in Kandahar. After that, we scheduled our leave to meet up if we were at least relatively close. Then Steve joined the reserves and it made things easier, because I always know where he is and I just have to make my way to Oahu – and that's our relationship in a nutshell."

**End of chapter 6!**

**A/N:** Oh, boy! That was quite a bit to take in. Could it have swayed the judge in their favor?

I like to think that Steve - any decent man, really - can deal with menstruation (yes, I went there, I used the m-word) without fits of squeamishness.


	8. Chapter 7

**Trouble**

**Summary:** Just how much trouble can Steve get into during one tiny reserve drill?

**Pairings:** Steve/Cath, minor Kono/Adam, Chin/Malia

**Warning****s: -**

**Chapter 7**

Catherine was practically skidding down the hall in a non-regulations kind of way, her mood flitting between nervousness due to the verdict and relief to be getting away from work. She could concentrate on computers and images less than ever, with the hearing coming to an end after her deposition. Vucovik had wanted to hear Steve on the matter, but, thankfully, Commander Lou had categorically refused that with a decisive glare toward the SEAL to dissuade him from opening his big mouth. The disagreeable JAG's expression had been suitably sour, but as neither lawyer had any further motions, the hearing concluded. Delario had retreated to mull over the case until she recently got a notification that the judge was ready to inform them of his decision.

The young Lieutenant stopped short in her tracks, gulping. For a moment she felt herself shiver. This verdict could end their struggle or feed them to the wolves. Suddenly, all the terrible marks came on her skin came to mind. She raised her hand to her left arm rubbing over her tender skin as if to return its natural warmth to it. Most of the bruises had faded by now, fortunately, only the worst still marring her image. She had looked at them every night, cursing herself for how careless she had been and how she had lead Steve into this situation. She knew in her head that it was not her fault, but her heart still ached for him. She knew her eyes reflected the same guilt she tried to talk him out of when she saw it in his blue orbs. She rubbed her arm more forcefully to drive the chill from her bones. So lost was she in her thoughts that she had not heard the approaching footsteps until they stopped in front of her.

Looking up, she recognized the young sailor from the mess hall and two of his friends. They were leering at her, taunting her with their unashamed gazes. Catherine just rolled her eyes. She was a strong woman with a pretty face in a male-dominated work place – whatever they would say, it would hardly be the first time she heard it. So instead of going on an immediate defensive, which would only serve to make their molesting more tenacious, she merely raised an eyebrow and waited. The first thing she was offered was a long whistling sound as they stepped closer, crowding her. Not quite close enough to suggest assault or groping was to follow, but enough to make any normal person feel uncomfortable. Catherine's other eyebrow joined the first, almost disappearing under her hairline.

"Look here, boys," the ring leader singsonged. "The sainted Lieutenant Rollins, defender of SEALs-"

"The tramp!", one of them interjected.

"No, a froghog, that's what she is," the third one added. "Look how she's shivering-"

"-missing your stud already, Rollins? Needing a fix?", the sailor sneered. He stepped closer still, until they were only a hair's breath away from touching, all the while rubbing his hands together suggestively. Catherine fought the instinct to roll her eyes again. "I could mount you sometime if you miss it so much..."

"-heard you liked a wild ride, is that true?"

The ring leader opened his mouth again, but this time Catherine was out of patience. She raised her finger to his lips and smiled wickedly. Time to give him a little bit of his own medicine, she decided and crowed internally when her response made them pause uncertainly. They'd expected outrage, but she'd give them something far more sinister. Moving to close the distance between her an the sailor – she hadn't bothered to recall his name or read it of the tag – hovering just before their lips touched. Her hands crept up to the man's shoulder to fist in his uniform shirt as their breaths mingled. Then, in a clear clinical tone, she gave him her answer and his humiliation.

"I'd rather change my sex."

Her grip on his shoulders turned bruising when she rammed her knee up to meet his groin. The sailor staggered back, furling in on himself. His two followers looked hastily between him and her, obviously contemplating whether to get their friend out of there or attempt to avenge him and get into an all out fight with their superior. Catherine was hoping for the latter, her hands itching to curl into fists and break a few bones. The inactivity and powerlessness of the last few days had accumulated inside her in the form of a tightly curled ball of rage. These three impudent brats were exactly the vent she needed. Better than some old sandbag any day. The decision, however, was taken out of either of their hands as a new voice appeared in the corridor.

"What the hell is going on here?!", the booming voice of Commander Fenn made their heads turn. By the look on his face, he was going to drag them all to the Captain.

"Nothing, sir," the three men muttered.

Now it was Fenn's turn to roll his eyes. He shifted his gaze pointedly to Catherine.

"Nothing's wrong, sir," she insisted.

"That's not what I saw. You three, back to work. I'll have a word with your CO later," he barked at the men, then he looked at Catherine again. "You're my own problem."

"Yes, sir."

"I knew you would be trouble – the moment this started, I knew. Damn it, the favors were supposed to be a quiet deal."

"I know, sir. We shouldn't have been caught. I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry you got caught up in this mess."

"Damn right I was." He sighed and gave a rueful smile. "Well, I guess I wasn't helping any."

If this was supposed to be his apology for being an ass, it wasn't much, but she would take it.

"We should get you to the hearing. This will have consequences."

Of course, he had to ruin it.

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_(Conference Room)_

It took an elbow in the sides from Commander Lou to get him back to reality and stand up in a sign of respect with everyone else. He watched Captain Delario sit down and take notice of the seating arrangements of everyone involved. The older man did not raise an inquisitive eyebrow as he had during past sessions, merely sighed as if he were anxious to get this out of the way. With a hand he motioned for everyone to sit back down, then turned to Steve.

"Anything to add before I announce my findings, Lieutenant Commander?"

Steve shook his head. He'd already said everything he could as had a lot of other people on his behalf and on Vucovik's. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Very well, then," Captain Delario spoke up again. "Both sides have presented their case in the past sessions. As this is an Article 32 hearing, I'm not here to find on the guilt or innocence of the accused, merely to decide whether this case should go to court-martial. Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, please rise."

The whole room seemed to hold its breath as Steve and his lawyer stood. The sound of their chairs scraping along the floor filled the room. Steve heard the small intake of breath coming from behind his back. He turned slightly to let his gaze fall on Catherine. His brave lieutenant was tense, wringing the hemline of her uniform jacket continuously. When she met his eyes, she had a stubborn look about her and he knew she was making a brave face for him. She stood by his side, no matter what. He tried to smile encouragingly, but knew it came out somewhat crooked. Another elbow to his ribs had him refocus his attention on the judge.

The older man looked severe as his eyes shifted between all the main cast of this drama he had watched unfold. He saw Vucovik's clenched jaw, could almost hear the man's teeth grind against each other. He let his gaze wander over the audience, briefly scrutinizing the united front of SEALs sitting in the rows behind the defendant. McGarrett's team had appeared without fail, looking focused and determined. Catherine Rollins sat with them, right behind the Commander, her gaze transfixed on Delario himself. She was pale, but would be strong for McGarrett's sake. The man himself stood resolutely. He looked straight ahead, no emotions clouding his expression as he waited for the judge to speak.

Delario cocked his head. This had certainly been an interesting few days. Trying a sailor of the Commander's caliber for anything was rare, and the circumstances were even rarer. Accused of raping his girlfriend, he had had to account for every moment passed in the woman's company, his friendship and relationship with her scrutinized from the very first day to the present. There had been moments when their behavior had strayed from strictly professional boundaries even as they worked together. The kiss in the back alley came to mind as did the Commander's kneeling form in the fantail and the way he had calmed Lieutenant Rollins in the brig. The judge remembered how intimate the moment had felt. He had almost felt like an intruder as he had watched their love and trust work its way through the woman's anger. It could not be denied that they worked well together, though. He had studied both their files and it was abundantly clear that they made quite the team. He had been informed of more recent co-operations that bordered on misappropriation of military equipment, which Captain Swanson had implicitly allowed. Now he'd had to decide if that was enough to end both these sailors' careers. It had not been an easy choice. The Navy could always use officers like these two, great at their jobs and with their heart and minds in the right places. Generally, they were very good role models for future generations of Navy men and women. However, their personal transgressions had been severe at the time and the favors Rollins did her boyfriend should not go unpunished. Yet...

"Commander McGarrett, it seems abundantly clear that there can be no talk of sexual assault in the intimacy shared between yourself and Lieutenant Rollins. And though these favors are certainly non-conform with Navy regulations, they occurred with the knowledge and acceptance of both Lieutenant Rollins' CO and Captain. She certainly had good insight to secure their aid, and it is not for them that you are facing this court today anyway. Overall, you should thank her, Commander. Her explanation of your visits to her apartment was sound and her honesty certainly refreshing." What he really meant was disturbing, but he couldn't very well let on to that. Jesus, that woman wasn't embarrassed by anything it would seem.

"Your honor?" The question sounded more tentative than Steve would have normally liked. He cast Vucovik a glance who had asked at the same time, though more incredulous. Delario looked between the two men.

"I will not refer this case to court-martial over one kiss eight years ago."

There was an instant cheer from the rows behind McGarrett. There were claps on backs and hugs and laughter as the room slowly cleared. Vucovik stood behind his desk undecided for a moment, then he got up to congratulate McGarrett. He forewent the customary handshake and the SEAL didn't offer his hand either. The two sized each other up for another second, before the lawyer marched out of the room. Steve watched him go without regret or anger; it was over. When Commander Lou tugged on his arm he turned away without a second thought.

"This is hopefully the last I've seen of you in a court, McGarrett," she said as she extended a hand in congratulation. "All's well that ends well, huh?"

"As long as this is the end," he replied and they shared an easy smile. Before she left, she gave a nod to something behind him and a little wave. As he watched her go, he couldn't help but think he's made a new friend, somehow. He turned to find Catherine smiling up at him. She was still an arm's length away, mindful of where they were and what they had just gotten out off, but she looked relieved and happy again and that was all that mattered. He smiled back impishly. They'd made it. They had weathered the storm, together. "It's over, Cath."

"Yeah, finally," she replied, her voice breaking and he could see the first signs of tears on her face.

"Hey, it's a happy occasion. No crying now."

"For a moment there, I thought-" They both could only count their blessings that Delario hadn't dug too deep about their little escapade in the fantail.

"Me, too," he admitted when he saw how vulnerable she looked. She had a way of making him lower his defenses and let go of his mask of invincibility that even Danny couldn't rival. She made him feel safe to be vulnerable, too. They both smiled shakily at the other and shared a silly little laugh as they shifted uncomfortably on their feet, unsure of what to say or do next. They were not alone, they were not home but on the Enterprise – there was only so much that they could do...

"Oh, for god's sake, just kiss the girl already, Commander," Delario's voice called back to them as he exited through the side door. The two sailors shared the same gob-smacked expression as they stared at the door following that particular directive, but soon shook it off with another laugh. Steve's gaze found Catherine's again. There was so much there, so much emotion. So much left unsaid and now was not the right time either.

"Later," Catherine whispered tentatively.

"Later," Steve promised.

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'Later' found Catherine shifting on her feet nervously as she stood in front of the hated conference room once more. The Captain had called her to meet him there for a discussion of the day's events. She had heard through the grape vine that the three lechers had had their privileges cut for the rest of the tour, including any shore leave they might have enjoyed in various ports the Enterprise would stay in. She glanced behind herself, sure to miss Steve on the airfield. There hadn't been a time when she hadn't seen him off since the early days of their relationship and she cursed herself for her own stupidity. This would be the first time that she wouldn't be there, all because she had wanted to humiliate that stupid boy. Of course, she had acted just as stupidly by letting her thirst for confrontation get to her. If she had kept her cool, she might be exchanging flirty banter with her handsome sailor right now.

Catherine grumbled at herself. She was procrastinating. Steadying herself, she knocked and entered. Captain Swanson wasn't quite glaring at her , but his gaze were certainly less than friendly. She gulped. Loss of leave and privileges might be the least of her problems by the end of this conversation. She was the one who had assaulted fellow sailors. She chided herself again. She should not have let her temper get the best of her. Swallowing she took the seat he indicated for her. She wrung her hands together instead of folding them neatly in her lap.

"Commander Fenn brought to my attention that there has been an alarming decline in the quality of your work. It seems that you are constantly distracted – inattentiveness, delayed response to the address by a superior officer, staring into space. You don't meet the standards or any kind of a work quota, Lieutenant Rollins-"

Catherine opened her mouth to protest. Sure, she had not been on top of her game lately, but she had done her job. Swanson only had to give her a pointed look to shut her up.

"I know there's no defined quota for work like yours and I know that you were under a lot of pressure, but that doesn't matter. There's always a lot of pressure and the Navy expects you to handle it and do your job to keep our boys safe when they're out there. You need to leave your personal life out of your work, Lieutenant. If you haven't learned that yet, I'm not sure a career in the Navy is suited for you."

That stung. Catherine felt tears prick at her eyes unexpectedly; quickly, she blinked them away and swallowed down the bile. She couldn't face the Captain right now, her eyes staring straight ahead, hurt at his cruel estimation. She wanted to argue, to fight back to get up and growl at him, listing off all her successes and all the reasons he should be glad to have her. The truth was, though, that she didn't do the job for any kind of recognition, but because she loved it, and stamping her feet with a petulant moan would have only made her more pathetic.

"You're right, sir. I let my emotions cloud my judgment. I'm sorry and I promise it won't happen again, sir."

"Damn right, it won't, Rollins. I'm relieving you of duty."

A sharp intake of breath from her, then he continues.

"In light of recent events it has become clear that the Enterprise is no place for you, Lieutenant. It is apparent that you can't work with its crew anymore and I can't have petty squabbles on my ship – let alone an all out brawl that is sure to come if you stay here."

She was getting sick. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. She loved her job, she loved working on the Enterprise. Okay, confined spaces and lack of steady land could get on her nerves after six months, but without that there wouldn't be any coming ashore to see Steve waiting there for her leaning againt his truck ready to take her home and she loved those moments. What would she do now? Where would she be stationed? Would there be a disciplinary hearing against her? Catherine was drawing a blank. At that moment she noticed the small, inconspicuous papers lying on the desk. Horrified,she realized that they were her transfer papers. She felt the bile rise again, stronger than before, unsure whether she could fight it back down.

"Therefore," Swanson said, a hand coming to her shoulder to draw her attention. He looked into her watering eyes, his features had softened. "Therefore, I'm reassigning you to Pearl-Hickam."

Catherine's breath caught in her throat. Her body literally shook with relief at hearing those words and seeing the Captain smile. A throaty laugh escaped her before she could swallow it down. She breathed in deep as she jumped up out of her seat. The chair fell over behind her. Clucking embarrassedly, she put it back up. Captain Swanson cleared his throat and rearranged his features into a stern expression. He went to pick up the papers, handing them to her with a certain glee.

"Now get the hell off my ship, Lieutenant. Your plane is waiting," he ordered, adding the last part with some cheek. Steve was on that plane as they both knew very well. "And wipe that grin off your face, Rollins, this is supposed to be punishment."

She would have skipped out the door if it wouldn't have been wholly undignified and in direct violation of the Captain's orders. She'd rather not chance giving him a reason to second-guess his decision. Upon opening the door, she found Trish and Mick in front of it, carrying her duffel bag. By the looks of it, her things had already been packed up.

"The Captain gave you the heads up?", she questioned.

"...I had an inkling," Mick admitted, handing her the duffel bag and pulling her into a brief, but tight hug.

"We should go," Trish added, hugging the life out of her for a few seconds.

"We?"

"The others are working and, since you won't see McGarrett off this time, we decided we would see the both of you off."

"We should hurry. The plane won't wait forever," Mick added.

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'Later' found Steve all packed up and waiting on the airstrip, ready to be shipped back to the islands. His reserve drill had come to an end without him and, as they would be sending everyone else back home or on their respective missions, there was no one to finish his training with. He would either have to repeat the experience once back at Pearl or he might be allowed to wait until the next scheduled reserve drill in six months. He wasn't sure which option he would prefer. He felt a sense of duty to finish what he had come here for, yet he could not rid himself of the sense of betrayal, of utter hurt that he felt inside at what he had gone through at the hands of the Navy. He couldn't bring this into balance with his own guilt still gnawing at his insides either.

He knew Catherine felt the same way herself, of course. They were idiots, the both of them, and he could practically hear the verbal lashing he would get from Danny if the Jersey detective were here right now. His face darkened a bit at the thought of his partner. He remembered what Mick had said about how Danny had made Catherine cry. He knew his friend hadn't meant for that to happen and probably regretted it, but protecting Catherine was ingrained into his DNA. It was part of his nature. Sighing, Steve decided to talk to his partner, knowing that it would be a brief, yet uncomfortable conversation.

He glanced at the plane that would take him to Udeid, the first of several trips that would be necessary to get home if the Navy was feeling vindictive. He glanced back at the hatch from which he was waiting to see Catherine emerge, but it remained stubbornly closed. He'd have to board the plain in a couple of minutes. If she didn't turn up soon they miss their last chance to talk face to face for the next couple of months. He cursed inwardly, wondering where she was and what was keeping her. He didn't worry about Catherine not coming to see him off; they'd long passed the stage in their relationship where they needed to pretend not to need each other.

He glanced at his watch. It was time. With one last mournful look toward the hatch, he climbed aboard. Steve sat down and leaned back into the first seat he found, his fingers drumming against his knee as he waited for take-off. The pilot informed him and the few other passengers that they would be delayed due to a last-minute additional passenger. Whoever the landlubber was, Steve wanted to strangle him. If he was going to have to leave without saying goodbye to Catherine, wait for their 'later' without the aid of one more moment of seeing her smiling face to tide him over, he wanted to be gone now. Then maybe he could stop glancing at whatever glimpse of the outside world he could get, agonizing over whether or not he would see her sprinting out the hatch only to realize it was too late for stolen moments.

'Finally,' Steve thought when a duffel bag was thrown into the plane directly in front of his feet. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer that he'd get out of here now. He'd never see the Enterprise in the same light again. Neither would Catherine, he realized. He wondered what it would mean for her as the one who had to stay. He had to deal with the Navy once every six months, allowing him some time to get over the hurt, but she was stuck in this world and on this very ship, to boot. Steve bit the inside of his cheek. He should have gone to talk to Captain Swanson and see if the older man could arrange something for Catherine – a post on another carrier or maybe even ashore. Yeah, right...

He chuckled.

"Hey, sailor, is that seat taken?"

The familiar voice made his eyes snap open. The easy tone still ringing in the air and the broad grin on her beautiful face made him smile. He moved his duffel bag off the seat beside him just as she plopped down on it. They grinned at each other even as the plane started moving, not saying a word nor glancing away for what seemed like forever. They didn't speak, didn't need words. Those would come later. She would explain it all to him later. They didn't touch; that, too, could wait. They had nothing but time, now that their troubles were behind them.

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Once they had landed at Udeid air base, Steve and Catherine separated for a moment. They had half an hour before they had to board their next flight. Though he was beat from the day's events, Steve headed straight for the public phone to call home. He moved passed a few fellow sailors who had been on the transport flight with him as well as some zoomies stationed at the base. Between exhaustion and anxiety he could barely concentrate enough to give each a nod in greeting, earning himself a few admonishing words by the base chaplain. The elderly man must have seen how blastedly tired he was and took pity on him, pointing him to a short cut to the phone he was looking for. Steve didn't need to be told twice, thanked him silently and dashed off. His hand latched onto the receiver as soon as he reached it, though he did not immediately pick it up. Instead he held it in a steadfast grip as if gripping his lifeline. Taking a few deep breath, he dialed.

"'...'lo?", a quiet voice mumbled over the phone.

Steve cursed. Of course, it was late in Hawaii.

"Danny, it's me. I-"

"Steve?! Seriously? Finally, it was about freaking time. You get yourself arrested and I hear about it from your girlfriend, sorry, your not-girlfriend when all I get from you is zip. Zip, can you imagine? My best friend, my brother, you have some nerve calling... uh, you know what, never mind, I wanna do this face to face, so why are you calling?"

"To tell you that you'll get your chance very soon if you play shuttle service from the air field back to my house."

"When?", was all Danny asked, though it was clear he wanted to say more, ask a million questions and yell at his partner some more.

"Tomorrow afternoon. Call Pearl to get the exact ETA in the morning. And could you get some things from the grocery store? And Danny..."

"I know. I'm sorry, Steve, I never meant to hurt Catherine. I've been waiting to apologize to her again as long as you have wanted me to do it. I'll be there."

"Thanks, partner," the SEAL replied seriously. He could practically cut the tension that wafted over to him from the other end of the line with a knife. He could feel Danny's worry as if it were his own, sense his fear and silent support. Steve heaved a long sigh; there wasn't time to explain everything. So he limited himself to the bare necessities. "It's over. We're coming home."

"We?"

"Catherine's on the flight, too. Listen, I'll explain when we arrive. I got to go, got a plane to catch now."

"Okay, see you tomorrow, partner."

Steve hung up without another word, but with a small smile gracing his features. He joined Catherine on the air strip, sharing his smile with her. She looked a little woozy; she fell asleep almost as soon as the wheels lifted off the ground and stayed out through the entire flight. Steve worried that recent events might have taken more of a toll on her than they first realized. He gently shook her awake. She grumbled unintelligibly at first, but soon she opened her eyes and smiled lazily at him.

"Morning, sailor, we there yet?", she whispered quietly so as not to be overheard. Steve himself had to strain to hear her. When he did, he broke out into a bit of a grin, though.

"Yeah, we're back on the pineapple-infested hellhole."

"I take it Danny is picking us up?", she asked as she rubbed her eyes slowly to reach full wakefulness. "Good," she continued at his nod as they made their way down the ramp, "then I can keep napping in the Camaro."

He stifled a laugh.

"You can sleep all you want once we're home." He saw her look up at him curiously for a moment and worried to have overstepped some invisible line they never talked about, but then her lips extended into the brightest, most beautiful smile he had ever seen. His heart throbbed in relief and joy. He couldn't fight the urge to smile back just as goofily.

"Can't wait to get home," she murmured, brushing her hand against his arm. That was the most affectionate gesture she dared to make while still under military eyes. "Will you join me?" As much as they missed making love to each other, they both knew that was not what this was about. They would have been separated by an invisible wall during his reserve drill anyway, but the hearing had put additional strain on them. Now she just wanted to sleep next to him again, feel close and enjoy each other's warmth.

"What else... ah, there's Danny."

The other man approached and got right on with the apologies without even a word of greeting. Catherine shook her head with a rueful smile. They hugged, then she climbed into the back of the car and was dead to the world again as soon as she hit the head rest. Danny raised his eyebrow at Steve, but the other man merely shrugged uncertainly, mouthed the word 'tired'. They exchanged one of their manly half-hugs before getting in. It wasn't until a few minutes into the drive that the Jersey detective broached the subject that was gnawing at his insides.

"So, it's really over?"

"Yeah, there was obviously nothing to the rape charges and Judge Delario decided that there wasn't enough to go on to lay charges in a court-martial for conduct unbecoming and fraternizing. Vucovik just wanted to make a name for himself by taking down a SEAL, a poster boy. Delario didn't refer the matter to court-martial."

"So, you're free?"

"Yeah."

Danny paused briefly.

"How does it feel?"

"It sucks," Steve grunted loudly. There was a hitch in Catherine's breathing that made him lower his voice again. No need to rip her from the sleep she so urgently needed. His voice came out as a low, desperate hiss. "I mean I'm glad that I won't be court-martialed, but the Navy won't forget that that fuck even happened. The people I've worked with, people who respected me; many will look at me and wonder... and it fucking sucks. I feel betrayed."

"We won't wonder, Steve. Chin, Kono and I; we won't ever wonder and if they do, then they didn't respect you. They certainly didn't know you."

Steve mouth twitched. They stopped in front of his house. Danny suddenly seemed nervous as he glanced into the rear view mirror. Looking at the sleeping beauty in the back seat, the SEAL didn't have the heart to wake her up. Instead he opened the back door and lifted her off the seat. He followed a twitching Danny. It became even curiouser when they reached the front door. Danny placed himself between his partner and the door, suggesting he go inside and clean up a bit. Steve raised his eyebrows. He had left the detective in charge of his house. Danny still caring for that dog they'd found on one of their recent cases made him aware of the possibility of a less than well-ordered house, yet at this point he could have cared less. He was tired, Catherine was already asleep in his arms and he only wanted to snuggle together in their bed in their home and not get up until mid-morning the next day. So he pushed past Danny, entering his house. It seemed perfectly in order as far as he could tell at first glance. Only the small group of surprise guests arranged under a 'Welcome Home' banner was a bit of a surprise. They all talked in unison.

"Steve, there you-"

"Good to see you, boss, we-"

Commander, good to-"

"Big Kahuna, what's with sista-"

Steve gave them a furtive grin. He was moved by their gesture, but he was too tired to deal with a party right now.

"I'll put the shrimp in the fridge, so you and sista can celebrate later," Kamekona said nodding his head in a meaningful way.

"Thanks, Kame. Kono," Steve said motioning upstairs with his head.

"Sure thing, boss," she replied and dashed up to open the bedroom door while Steve thanked everyone for coming. He received a few pats on the back and indulgent smiles, but it was clear that once he was up there, he wasn't coming back down again. Danny grinned at him. They settled on having a BBQ the next day when their celebrees would both be awake enough to enjoy their friends' company. Then, as his friends quietly left the house, Steve climbed the stairs, wondering how Catherine could sleep through all that. She must have been really tired out. He exchanged a partial hug with Kono – mainly, she hugged him - when she came down.

"Welcome back, boss."

"Glad to be here. We're having a BBQ tomorrow."

"Won't miss it. I'll bring Adam, so behave."

Steve chuckled. "No promises, but I know what it means to be under unfavorable scrutiny now. So I'll do my best."

He went into their bedroom and placed Catherine gently on the bed, removing both their clothes down to her underwear before joining her. He snuggled close like he had promised himself he would. He wanted to tell her now; he'd had that overwhelming urge to say it for what seemed like forever, but again it wasn't the right time. Catherine was already asleep, it would feel like cheating to tell her now. He'd say the words when she woke up. He couldn't wait to see the smile on her face when he'd finally get over himself. He wanted her happy, and he knew that she knew, but saying it was better. An arm slid around her waist as his eyes blinked in the haze of the afternoon sun lighting their bedroom. Everything looked, felt warm and welcoming. Nothing like the grayish, dreary aircraft carrier they had just left. He'd felt oppressed there, all the charges weighing down on him. Here, at home with his girl, he felt safe and loved. Judging by the way she unconsciously nestled back into him, a contented sigh escaping her, this was true for Catherine as well. They were safe together. Home. Home was were the heart was, they said. Steve last thought before drifting into blissful sleep was that his heart was right here in his arms.

**End of Trouble!**

**A/N:** All is well that ends well. I left blue undertones in there, because it seemed right for Steve to feel betrayed. Not everything can or needs to be resolved att he happy end; the important thing is that they have crossed into smooth waters to repair the damage. I hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it.

No idea what my next project will be, but I hope you'll be with me again when I've figured it out.

**FicreaderT:** I thought about getting Admiral Rollins involved, but then I thought that would smack of favoritism and I thought they could get out on their own.


End file.
